Novel Asheva: A Summoner's Tale - [Book-1 Complete]

Spoiler: Chapter-19 Hub Stratum

Chapter-19 Hub Stratum

It was getting late, a few hours later the morning sun would greet him from the horizon. Yet, he couldn’t bear to wait anymore. So, he followed the method in the memory imprint and activated the connector with his spirit. The heavy consumption sapped his strength, but he held on. Its spirit requirement wasn’t too high, he acted after confirming that. He had enough to connect to the hub and stay connected for a few minutes.

Ewan leaned back on the recliner and closed his eyes. Soon, still frames of blurred pictures jumbled before him. His point of view in them was low, as if he lay on the floor. He looked around, and the blurred images shifted. Bit by bit, the frames sped up and finally animated, the pictures also sharpened and cleared up, and he checked his surroundings. The place he was in was his own shop, or at least it looked the same. Same bright empty space, same ivory walls, same windows, same rug that carried its original color; it only lacked the old monitor.

[Welcome, Sir Ulrath.]

A message box also popped up in front of him.

Ulrath? His Pa’s name was Authen. This could be his Pa’s alias though, most likely to keep this place separate from his officially known wealth. His Pa’s funeral remained fresh for him, and so was the bizarre scene of his relatives drawing his blood. The murmurs around him that day spoke of some ‘hub’, and now the dots completed the picture. This shop survived the scavengers and made its way to Ewan because it linked to this specific hub-connector and was under the name ‘Ulrath’.

In the memory imprint, his Pa left all the details of this place—the safe zone he rented from Airadia’s sentience, he constructed it in the shape of their shop.

Ewan looked around the familiar place for a few moments then opened the market menu with a gesture, and a screen with a list appeared. A tiny slider on the side, several filters on top, and the number of Novas he owned at the bottom.

Novas, it at last became apparent—the standard currency with Anima as its base. A gram of Anima Crystal equaled one Novas, and his Pa left him ninety-four Novas. It was in the virtual form in the hub stratum, but he could take it out in coin form using the hub-connector; the circular groove in the middle had this function.

The list contained everything that native Starons sold in the hub stratum; it was the trade market. But exploration would come later. He had little time left after all; his spirit would run out soon. He closed the market menu and opened another; it was the screen for broadcasts. It displayed all sorts of announcements, from hunts to expeditions to alerts. ‘Endorsed by Ashevagord’, only the legit announcements shared this stamp though, others were questionable at best.

The sheer amount dazzled Ewan, but he closed it too after a quick look.

The next screen was for the information—all kinds were up for sale here. From the appearance of certain Astylinds in certain areas to the political situation of any colony. Even his colony’s, Obria’s, details were in the list. Once again, he gave it a glance and moved on to the final screen.

This screen was for requests—he could make any request he wanted here, for a price. He could also complete requests other Starons made and receive payment. Be it a request to buy something or a request to kill someone, everything was available here.

After checking everything, Ewan cut his connection to the hub and returned; he already verged on losing it.

Back on his balcony, he opened his tired eyes and kept the hub-connector in his claw-ring. This single trip sapped him dry. Before increasing his soul strength, he had to strategize his actions in relation to the hub. He couldn’t stroll around as he wished, window shopping as he sauntered. He had to decide what he wanted to do before connecting. But it could all wait till tomorrow; today, he was listless and lethargic, he only wanted to collapse right now. So, he turned on his side and fell asleep on the recliner.

….

Late morning, Ewan woke up to a sparrow pecking his hair; it fluttered away when he moved. He squinted and groaned and stretched his body. He slept well these days; his pale face also looked a bit better now.

After freshening up, he let Orange out of the rune and cooked a nice brunch. Orange had his milk while he ate the food. The little monkey made a fuss and sneaked a bite from his plate but stopped when Ewan threatened him with his ‘fire snakes’. He still had to drink milk, anything else would cause indigestion; a flood of diarrhea on his chest and head was the last thing Ewan wished for…oh, the shit oozing down his face…

Once the food filled him, he cleaned up the pending dirty dishes with Orange’s help. After all, his hand still hung disabled, he couldn’t do much with one hand.
The kitchen looked clean and empty once he put the wet rug down. He exhaled a breath of contentment when the slabs sparkled against the diffused sunlight, when the bottom of the sink saw the daylight again. Other rooms and the hall also needed cleaning, but he postponed that for later, he wanted to focus on the Astylinds for now. Contracting Orange did give him a sense of security, but it wasn’t enough. He had no apparent enemies right now; neither someone eyed his inheritance, nor anyone knew about it. But safety and precaution above all, he didn’t want to risk it.

Down in the basement, he sat near the table and connected to the hub with the connector again. He had a concrete plan this time, nothing else would distract him—he would buy the necessary blood and cut the connection.

The same process took him through the motions again and he received the same message.

[Welcome, Sir Ulrath.]

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Spoiler: Chapter-20 Ember

Chapter-20 Ember

Time was of the essence, he opened the trade market list and searched for Astylind blood using the filters. Yet, even through the layers of sieve, the list remained huge, and so, he filtered it once more based on levels. Level 0 to Level 9 Astylinds corresponded to Severynths at the Soul-Awakening step—the Step-0. Though he wasn’t sure, Level 1 to 2 should be enough to awaken the suspended eggs and the seed. He checked their prices and heaved a sigh of relief—a liter of Level 1 Astylind blood only sold for a Novas or two, some sold for even less than one Novas.

He went through some and selected one of the cheapest shops from the list. But the next problem stumbled him. The list only provided the shops’ details, he could use it to check which items were up for sale on the trade market. But to buy them, he had to travel over to the shop. This was a hurdle he had to cross, there was no other way around.

He was in his spirit form; he could give it a try—the utterance pumped his morale.

And so, he went out the door.

The sun glared over the bustling market, blobs of black spirit crammed the street, variety of shops and buildings lined the sides. The fist-sized blobs walked the edge, the bigger ones dared to hover inside, while the humanoids took the central lane…

The system that welcomed Ewan navigated him through the paved streets. Once he passed by other spirit blobs, the difference in size had him gaping. Even the fist-sized ones looked huge when he came close. Or….his spirit blob was too small. Still, it didn’t dampen his mood. He only started on his path a few days ago, the huge disparity was normal. He blocked all the useless negative thoughts and only focused on the streets and the navigation, walking beyond the edge, on the dirt trail like those small blobs.

But alas, he underestimated the distance to the shop. Regardless of his pumped-up morale, his spirit flumped midway. The connection snapped and he jerked his eyes open in the basement. He gasped for air while his head ached, and his ears rang. The abrupt disconnection dazed him; there was no damage, but it took his comfort and ease away.

Today’s attempt already proved his spirit lacked if he wanted to do anything at the hub. He could stay connected, but he couldn’t do anything.

He could now wait for his ‘Spirit’ to increase, or he could revert to the previous idea and go for the regular animals’ blood… His thoughts churned and churned. Both contained an element of risk; the difference was the amount.

He let out a helpless sigh and opted for patience; things never went according to plan… Of the two, the hub was more secure. Not only would the required amount be low, but he also wouldn’t stand out. Not contracting the Astylinds put him on edge, but he didn’t want to be hasty because of it, especially when he could access the better option.

….

Days went by, and Ewan’s usual routine changed little by little. Studying spell circuits and reading up on Astylinds took most of his time. Apart from practicing the <Transmute> circuit on paper, he also delved into the Spellbook his Pa left him. He couldn’t use most of the books he left yet, but he could study and understand this. It was even a necessity for a spellcaster aspirant like him, because he was a Severynth, not a Cerade—he needed a personal Spellbook.

The book his Pa left him was quite special, the last few days showed him its details. Whether his Pa created it or someone else did, it must’ve eaten some special materials, for the book had the ability to create infinite blank pages. Ewan couldn’t confirm the ‘infinite’ part yet, but the initial discovery pointed towards it. Once he copied the ‘Ember’ spell circuit his school provided on the final blank page, the book created another blank page. It gave him quite a surprise, yet, compared to everything else his Pa left him, the book appeared…rather normal.

But no matter what, it saved him the effort and money to buy another Spellbook. As long as it created new pages, he wouldn’t need another book.

In the bright basement. Ewan held the Spellbook in his left hand and aimed at the wall with his right.

Ember!

He traced its spell circuit in his soul space.

A small wispy blob of orange fire floated away and popped at the wall. Yet, aside from making a tiny area sooty, it did no damage—a single wet wipe could even rub the black off. The spell’s minimum and maximum Anima point both were low. It had no offensive power, even at its maximum Anima point—the reason school gave it to the immature students. But it was a decent spell for practice for the beginners.

Ewan closed the Spellbook and sat in the corner with several books surrounding him. He picked up his notebook and the pen and wrote down his experience while mumbling. His writing was messy and followed no pattern, only he could understand it—his teachers would certainly frown at it, and they did…
He drew some rough diagrams, wrote some equations, labeled some parts, crossed others—all these were to increase his spell tracing ability. He fixed the parts he made mistakes in and tried to improve where he was decent. As a Severynth, he had a disadvantage when it came to spellcasting. But he couldn’t sit and grumble and whine about it.

Once he formed a conclusion from his ‘doodling’, he went back and cast the spell again.

Ember.

He traced its spell circuit again and was faster this round; his adjustments shaved off at least a second from his casting time. But it still didn’t satisfy him. To speed up the tracing process, he almost made some mistakes, it could be lethal in live combat. And this was only a simple spell circuit, unlike actual spells. He scratched his cheeks and fell into deep thought while the wispy fire popped again.

For the next few hours, he continued his practice, and only stopped when the delivery guy called him.

“I’ve been ringing the doorbell for half an hour now.”

“Sorry, I was sleeping,” Ewan said. “Where do I sign?” He couldn’t hear the bell in the basement. But it hadn’t been half an hour for sure; no one would wait that long before ringing him.

The delivery guy handed him the panel, and once Ewan signed, he gave him a thick and heavy package.

“Can I get a,” Ewan slammed the door shut and carried it back to the basement. The package contained a book—<Astylind Anatomy: Explorer’s Edition Part-II>

He read books on Astylind’s anatomy before, but they were all for his school syllabus. They didn’t detail most of the information and only gave out brief introductions. And what he could get on the colony’s network wasn’t trustworthy and didn’t have many details either. The book he ordered online the day before yesterday was different—it was the explorer’s edition, the publisher made it for the hunters. It was expensive but worth it.

It contained a plethora of information related to different Astylinds. The part-II he ordered had extensive information on Fire Monkeys, Ewan needed that right now. Orange was his contracted Astylind, he couldn’t nurture and raise him without concrete knowledge.

He sat crossed legged and laid the large book on his knees. The crunches of page flipping echoed in the basement for the next hour as it engrossed him in. But soon, he had to stop—it was chow time, his stomach notified him with a growl.

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Spoiler: Chapter-21 Dumb Indeed

Chapter-21 Dumb Indeed

Another week passed, and it had been about two weeks since Ewan contracted Orange. Even though he was only a Level-0 Astylind, he still nurtured Ewan’s soul and strengthened it over time. His ‘Spirit’ grew to 1.5 from the feedback—an increment of 0.1 per week.

But today, things changed. When Ewan sensed it, he let Orange out and cast <Identify>.

[Astylind Name: Fire Monkey (Mutant)]

[Astylind Level: Level-1]

[Astylind Grade: Grade-D]

[Anima Affinity: Fire]

[Skills: Fire-Recipient]

[Gender: Male]

[Description: Natives of Airadia. They are blessed with decent fire-element affinity (Recipient) but lack the skill to make use of it.]

[Grade-Exalt Requirements: Astylind Core (Fire), Blood-Firos Leaves, Fire Coral, Volcanic Rock.]

[Remark 1: Can be trained as a vanguard but require more attention with the elemental skills.]

[Remark 2: They look cool, so can make them your mascot.]

[Remark 3: I agree with the second remark.]

He advanced to Level-1. There weren’t any noticeable physical changes in Orange, he was still a small kid, the size of Ewan’s palm. But he gave off a stronger aura now. And more so, he stood in the hall yet burned nothing, even the rug and the wooden floor remained intact. Except for a higher temperature around him, he didn’t affect his surroundings—a much better control than his mother and many other Astylinds that either scorched or froze his yard.

One other change to his details was the addition of ‘skills’, this part popped up because of their contract, the information came through their connection. Fire-Recipient, the skill denoted the affinity level Orange had—the first and basic level of affinity that barely grazed the Anima.

Ewan put Orange on his shoulder and brought him to the basement with expectation budding in his heart. Regardless of the affinity level, with the control he showed, he could have a better talent at elemental spells than his brethren. A pure physical fighter and an element user, the difference was big.

In the corner where he practiced his spell, Ewan directed Orange and told him to create a blob of fire. But all he received in return was a blank stare from the beady eyes.

“Do as I do.”

He traced the spell circuit in his soul space and cast the spell using the minimum Anima needed. His speed was several fractions faster this time, and the tracing remained stable throughout the process.

Ember.

A smaller than before blob of orange fire floated in front of him. He didn’t hurl it at the wall but let it float and showed it to Orange. Orange jumped and tried to grab the fire, cackling, and hooting; a sense of fascination and excitement passed to Ewan through their bond.

“Orange!” he scolded with a stern face.

It deflated the little monkey, and he did what Ewan asked. He brought his two hands together at his chest and focused on it. One second passed, and it soon became a minute. A few minutes later, the two stared at the empty space between his hands. There was no spark, let alone a blob of fire.

Ewan doubted his optimism, rubbing his forehead, but just focused on training Orange for now. Even if it took him a lot of time, he wouldn’t lose heart.

“Try punchi… Do as I do.”

After canceling the <Ember> spell, Ewan jabbed a few times and showed it to Orange. He was no expert, far from it, and all his ‘skills’ came from watching others. But it was enough to explain what ‘punching’ meant to the little monkey.

Orange followed his master and copied him; he threw out his tiny fist. And the heat distorted the air, sparks scattering about.

“Right, right. That’s the way,” Ewan said with a gleeful smile.

Punch after punch, Orange practiced. While Ewan supervised him, he also thought about the skill that could complement the little monkey. If he were to make him a melee fighter, he needed to choose between two types—agility and brute force. With Orange’s size, brute force was out of the window. Even though he could get bigger as he got older, that was not an option right now. So, agility was his only choice; he had to scour for some information on how to move forward with this…

As his thoughts took him to the hub, an ear-ringing boom exploded in the basement. The walls quivered, the table vibrated, and he lost his balance.

The source had him gaping with his eyes wide open, and he lost his sense for a second. His thoughts had just distracted him, and Orange punched the wall. And the area he punched reddened and scorched—it radiated a hissing wave of heat.

Ewan’s eyes twitched as he cast <Identify> on Orange in a hurry, but his status showed no injuries. He cast it on himself and checked Orange’s status through his own, it also showed no negative status. His heart still thumped, and the rush of blood blared in his ears, so he examined Orange. He checked his bones, his joints, his skin, his muscles, but he showed no discomfort or pain. And there were no fractures, nor were there any muscle tears—the little bastard just cackled at him and reached for his hair.

Even with that extent of explosion, he had suffered no recoil… It astonished Ewan. That kind of impact with his tiny body, the recoil damage would’ve torn him apart in a normal scenario. And more than that, the source of power was questionable… His small limbs didn’t have enough strength to produce it.

After the process of elimination, the only plausible answer emphasized the fire element. If he employed the explosive nature of the fire element, he could produce similar results. It would need little to no physical strength, the impact from the fire element would do the job.

He looked at the little monkey. “Are you dumb or a genius?” And he got a confused look from him in return. Ewan nodded, dumb indeed.

Regardless of whether this was his inherent talent or his personal instinct though, it gave Ewan a clear picture of the development path he could train Orange in.

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Spoiler: Chapter-22 Transaction

Chapter-22 Transaction

A few days later, Ewan finally removed the bandages—his hand breathed fresh air for the first time in days. The injury left him huge burn scars, but it didn’t hurt anymore. Even though he could already use his hand since several days ago, he waited till his status showed no injuries to take off the bandages.

His ‘Spirit’ also grew to 1.6 now. He could try the hub again with that, but he chose not to. Reaching the shop wasn’t his aim, he also wanted to bargain, if possible, check the item with his <Identify>, and complete the transaction. An increase of 0.3 just wasn’t enough to cover all those aspects.

During this time, he practiced spellcasting with <Ember>, studied other spell circuits, studied Astylinds anatomy book, and trained Orange; this was his usual routine. The progress with Orange became obvious when Ewan narrowed down his actions—punch, punch, and only punch. He made the little monkey do nothing else. After going through several sessions, Orange at least got the form down. He didn’t need to become a professional, he just had to have it as an instinct. Orange was still an Astylind after all, if Ewan shoved the techniques down his throat, it would mellow his feral side.

Instead of bogging it down, he wanted to enhance Orange’s special talent. So, he tackled its applications next. With the punches over, he focused on his legs. The complexity of it made the kicks a hurdle to teach Orange, so Ewan focused on the thrust based on his talent.

And the first time he used it, he vanished from Ewan’s sight and the ceiling hammered him; it kept him dizzy for a good hour. Once Ewan confirmed the little monkey indeed received no injuries from using the Fire-Anima this way, apart from the crashes, he loosened all restraints.

He used all the leftover cardboard he had in the house and built a maze of sorts in the basement. It was a disaster at first, Orange busted through the cardboard walls. But he got the hang of it after a while and gained some form of control over his ability; he only scorched the walls now.

Little by little, time passed by again.

…..

Barrentide—the months of death gave way to Frosthelm—the months of silence. It rolled in much harsher than the last several years. It didn’t even snow yesteryear, yet knee-deep snow covered his yards now. The continuous blizzard of three days threw the colony into an eerie silence, and it still raged strong. Trams halted their engines, schools closed their doors, offices shut their shutters, even the workaholic Uncle Thain took a few days off and was unreachable on his official contact—he only picked up his personal phone.

Bundled in a thick velvet quilt, Ewan sat on his chair and slurped his piping hot chocolate milk in his room while reading the Astylind anatomy book. The basement ran frigid these days, even his improved physique didn’t help much. So, when he wasn’t training Orange or casting spells, he spent most of his time inside the house.

Flip.

Orange stopped chewing the pen and flipped the page for him.
The heat from his body gave Ewan some relief, the high temperature around the little monkey became his blessing nowadays—he acted as a natural fireplace.

Several minutes later, he licked the last drop of the milk and kept the book in his claw-ring, preparing the hub connector. His ‘Spirit’ had grown to 2.0 when he woke up this morning, this much was enough for his venture on the hub. He leaned back on the chair and connected his spirit. The same process repeated, but he was faster this time, his point of view also rose.

Once he selected the cheapest shop again, he bolted out of the door with a deep breath. Carpet of snow covered the market; the black blobs of spirit contrasted the white background. But he paid no heed to any of it and floated away as fast as he could.

A few turns later, he reached his destination with much strength to spare; he had enough spirit left to bargain for a couple rounds without disconnecting and could even use <Identify> if he finished the transaction fast.

Inside the shop, a blob of spirit larger than his drifted around, arranging items on his shelves.

“Hello, I need Astylind blood. Level-1.”

“Of course. How much do you need?” The blob of spirit hovered towards Ewan.

“Show me first,” Ewan said. And the man took out a small vial from one of the shelves and placed it on the counter between them.

Identify.

[Item Name: Astylind Blood (Mixed)]

[Item Description: A mix of different Astylind’s blood. High concentration of Level-1 Earth Rhino’s blood. Low concentration of blood thinners.]

“How much?”

“One liter for one Novas.”

“Make it five liters, it’s mixed stuff,” Ewan said.

“Haha, why don’t you loot my shop brother.”

“Would if I could.”

“Two. I also must earn some profit.”

“At least four.”

“Three liters. I can't go any high,” the shop owner said.

“Do three and a half and we have a deal.”

The quiet took over the shop for a moment but soon, the owner agreed with a hum and an okay. Ewan paid him one Novas and got three and a half liters of mixed Astylind blood. Luckily, his Pa rented a safe zone here, he could send the container to his place with a single gesture.

“Don’t tell anyone I sold to you so cheap. But do recommend my shop to your family and friends. I’ll give you another special discount for it.”

Ewan hummed a mindless reply and cut his connection.

Back in his room, he rubbed his aching forehead. His safe zone had the blood, but he waited to recover before connecting again; taking out items from there also used spirit after all.

….

In the evening, Ewan brought out the glass containers full of blood using the hub-connector and headed for the basement. The frigid gale smacked his face and chilled him to the core when he hauled the sliding door open; shivers ran down his spine. The snow overwhelmed his view, there was only white and more white as far as the smothered horizon went beyond the fences. Cold and lifeless, yet beautiful, certainly a sight to behold. But this beauty could kill without mercy.

His legs sank knee-deep as he slogged to the shed against the snow blast, leaving his trail behind in the white—it would only exist for a breath in the storm though. Once he was inside the basement, he closed the door and patted the snow off his head and jacket and sniffed—his nose had reddened a little.

About the special Astylind, he’d already made up his mind. He remained indecisive about it for days, but once he asked himself a simple question, his answer became clear.

What would he regret more?

He might or might not regret if he contracted this Astylind, but he would regret it if he didn’t. Rather than mourn for the chance he missed here, he wanted to take the risk and deal with the consequences. There must be a reason that his family passed down this Astylind with each successive generation. Even if its edge bit his flesh one day, he wanted to accept it.

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Spoiler: Chapter-23 Toast

Chapter-23 Toast

He took out one of the glass containers and poured a bit of blood into another empty container he brought from his kitchen. The smell of iron ambushed the area, but the earthy aura the blood gave off soon overwhelmed it. It was like Orange’s but more impulsive; if Ewan lacked in ‘Spirit’ right now, it might’ve given him a headache.

He carefully placed the small white egg into the container and waited for it to absorb all the life force. The process began as soon as the egg contacted the blood. And after a few minutes, the blood lost all its aura and rippled lifelessly and watery. Ewan added more blood into the container and the process resumed.
He repeated a few times until the egg glowed a white tint and stopped absorbing any more life force, it was now ready. The blood it used came close to a liter; if it was regular animal’s blood, it would’ve been several times that.

Ewan put the containers aside and focused on the egg. The method of contracting it was different from other Astylinds. The blood stained him as he held it, and a jolt shot up to his brain when he touched it with his spirit.

A hostile consciousness invaded his soul and scanned him, baring him to his core. It tingled his head and paralyzed him; he could not resist; it even dampened his will to resist. Sweat drenched his forehead and his heart raced, he struggled to think of countermeasures in case this consciousness threatened his life.

But the moment it scanned his entirety, all its hostility vanished into thin air. It gave off a warmth that comforted and embraced Ewan, and the similarity of it took him to the day when his Pa hugged him, the day he died…
His scrawny hands had no strength left, but he held him tight. His trembling fingers ran through his hair as he whispered his last words in his ear.

“Live well Ewan. Live my worth too.” And he sighed his last breath on his shoulder. Ewan’s eyes misted as the buried memories resurfaced, this was the warmth of a father he could never feel again.

‘Your father didn’t want you to contract my child. Do you still want to?’ The consciousness passed a thought to Ewan.

‘Our gift will bite you, he wanted to protect you from that. Do you still want to?’

‘You’re his son, so you’re my child too. This won't change no matter your decision. Do you still want to?’

“Yes.” Ewan sniffed and his resolution backed his nod.

‘Very well. You will be one in soul from now on. Take care of your little brother, I hope you both live well.’

The consciousness shattered and a string of information trickled into his mind. It came slowly and gently immersed him. At the same time, his soul mingled with another feeble soul and merged.

And a childlike meow was the last sound that echoed in the basement before he blacked out.

…..

He snapped his eyes open and jerked up with his teeth chattering and spasming breaths. The bitter cold ground iced him even with his jacket on; his eyelashes had frosted, his head ached in waves—he cast <Ember> to warm his body.

After the small blob of fire gave him some respite, Ewan dragged himself up and checked the egg, or what came out of it. A tiny kitten shivered in the broken shell of the egg, a mix of black and brown fur on his back, snow-white fur near his chest, tiny paws, long tail, and closed eyes. He purred at times and twitched his legs, his chest inflated and deflated in a rhythm as his breath blew the hanging shards of the shell away.

Our souls merged…

The process of this contract varied so much that it dazed Ewan. Contracts with other Astylinds only linked their souls and consciousness; a thread-like existence connected them. With this though, his and the kitten’s soul merged and became one, and the kitten’s body became an extension of his. This contract didn’t create any rune in his soul space either, it instead gave him a black and white tattoo on the back of his right hand—of a wheel divided in nine blocks and a cat’s paw in the center.

But investigating the changes would come later, it was too cold down here. He cradled the kitten and kept him inside his jacket. He also picked the other egg and the seed and went back to the house.

Once he was inside the thick quilt with the kitten, once its velvet warmed him, he went through the information he inherited before he’d fainted. Even though it only trickled into his mind before, the total amount could fill several books. It took him minutes to only skim the important details. One of which was the special ability the kitten possessed. And because their souls merged, that now he possessed.

Luck roulette…

He finally understood why his Pa called it a double-edged sword. This special ability allowed him to move his luck towards the positive spectrum for a period, but once that ended, his luck would spring to the negative spectrum for the same period.

Luck was a concept he never imagined would exist. He, like most others, used the word luck in his daily life, but he never actually believed in the concept. Yet, today, this ability proved him wrong. Its prospects were endless, yet it could also end his life. If used well, it could become one of his strongest weapons. Yet, if he became reckless with it, he wouldn’t live to see another day…

Ewan took a deep breath, rattled from one bombshell after another. Almost every item his Pa left him gave him the shock of his life. From the <Transmute> spell circuit to this Astylind; he could imagine that old pervert’s mischievous giggles when he prepared all this for him.

And there were still two Astylinds left.

He shook his head and used <Identify> on himself to check if there were any major changes.

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [1st Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.1

Spirit: 2.0

Anima: [Fire – 2.0]

Astylinds: 2 [Potential: 2]
:Rolling Cat: Step-0 [1st Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]


Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector.

Novas: 93
Sol: 45

Apart from the addition of the kitten and the decrement of the ‘Potential’, it remained the same. Because this was a special case where his soul merged with the kitten, the regular levels of Astylinds didn’t apply. He was one with Ewan and would become stronger with him.

Toast, I’ll name you that.

The little kitten, smaller than his palm, purred when he petted his soft furry stomach. The information he received also contained other bits that made him apprehensive. He had to brace himself for the changes that were to come, for some might not be so desirable.

Identify.

[Astylind Name: Rolling Cat]

[Astylind Level: --]

[Astylind Grade: --]

[Anima Affinity: --]

[Skills: Luck-Roulette]

[Gender: Male]

[Description: Natives of Airadia. They are the species that gained the favor of Airadia. Other than their unique skill, they have no other strength. Once someone contracts them, their souls merge.]

[Grade-Exalt Requirements: --]

[Remark 1: My gift to my family. It will be the fortune of us Ayres.]

[Remark 2: Our blessing, our curse.]

[Remark 3: No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t break its curse. My daughter can't continue our family, she’s far too kind. I need another living descendant, not a corpse!!]

[Remark 4: I don’t regret.]

[Remark 5: It is our family. Our next generation must accept it. My Cinnamon can't be the last of her kind.]

[Remark 6: My son rejected it. It will all end with my generation…]

[Remark 7: I do not regret!!]

[Remark 8: I soared with him. I fell with him. Hope my son doesn’t make the same mistakes.]

[Remark 9: ....]

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Spoiler: Chapter-24 New Instincts

Chapter-24 New Instincts

Contracting Toast didn’t need any of his blood, so he could contract one of the other two Astylinds without any delay. And after much deliberation that considered their sizes, he chose the egg. He repeated the same process on the kitchen slab and poured the useless blood down the sink. The head-sized egg now radiated a blue halo.

Contract.

The clean slit on his wrist spurted blood as he traced the spell circuit in his soul space. His face paled from the drain, a chill rose from his core, shivers took over him, and his lips purpled. Hypovolemia—his status reverted to it.

After he shed the needed blood, his wound closed, and the puddle of red floated up to form the spell circuit in the air. It flashed with a blood tint and changed into mist threads that cocooned the egg. Next part was the wait game.

Orange stood on Ewan’s shoulders and comforted him and Toast by raising the temperature. Ewan leaned on the kitchen countertop, short on breath, and waited for the cocoon to shrink. And soon enough, it thinned.

The same process repeated, and the spell succeeded once again. The egg shook, its shell fractured, and a muffled howl escaped its cracks. Ewan didn’t help though; breaking out of the egg was a ceremony of sorts for many Astylinds and Starons—a rite of birth, some called it. He wouldn’t interfere in that unless necessary.

Hit after another, the creature inside banged against the eggshell and broke through. It tore it with its blue claws that looked like human hands and finally crawled out. It was the size of Ewan’s head, with navy blue skin, clawed hands and feet, a long pointy tail, and two tiny bumps on the sides of its forehead. Even without using <Identify>, Ewan recognized this creature, and braced for another impact.

Imp…

They were one of the subspecies of the Demons. Like Humans, they were also Starons and not Astylinds. A fine line of intelligence and wisdom divided the Astylinds and the Starons. Though the Demons stood among the lowest rung of the ladder as a Staron, far from humans and much closer to the Astylinds, the upper rung still categorized them in the same class.

“The spell really doesn’t discriminate…,” Ewan murmured.

Even though it was possible in theory, his Pa proved it in reality—he contracted another Staron. And now Ewan too followed in his footsteps. He traced the spell circuit and cast <Identify> while the little Imp scarfed the eggshells.

[Astylind Name: Imp (Ice-Variant)]

[Astylind Level: Level-0]

[Astylind Grade: Grade-D]

[Anima Affinity: Ice]

[Skills: Ice-Favored]

[Gender: Male]

[Description: Natives of Alvodor. Their talents and affinity vary based on their bloodline. But most are capable of decent spellcasting and melee combat.]

[Grade-Exalt Requirements: Astylind Core (Ice), Frozen Web, Ice Honey.]

[Remark 1: Low wisdom, barely crossing the line. Possibility of taming and rearing is high.]

[Remark 2: Basic contract doesn’t work. Success rate might increase with a modified spell circuit.]

[Remark 3: Hah, I’m a master of a Demon now. But too much torture broke his mind. Tch!]

[Remark 4: Modified spell circuit succeeded; the contract was a success. No oppression needed. Changing their format in the database, the contracted ones will be noted ‘Astylind’ from now on.]

Ewan read the details and the remarks as the abundant Ice-Anima in the surroundings surged towards him and the Imp. There was a new rune in his soul space now, a metallic white ‘V’ shaped rune. It glowed with a gentle but frigid bluish-white halo. It proved his ability to cast ice spells.

The little Imp cried at Ewan once he finished the eggshells.

“Still hungry?” He carried him on his other shoulder and prepared the utensils to cook food and heat up some milk.

The Imp clutched his hair and stuck close to him as his legs wobbled. Orange screeched at him and climbed on Ewan’s head, puffing his chest out once he reached the top. The Imp looked at him then glanced down at the floor; his knees buckled, and his legs trembled harder. He buried his face in Ewan’s hair and stuck even closer while Ewan cooked.

Unlike his other two Astylinds, the little Imp could digest solid food right from the start. If he was on Alvodor, he would’ve hunted for food soon after his birth.

The scalding pan thawed the semi-frozen meat and seared it. The sizzling fat made Ewan salivate and its smell invited him. Once the slab of meat came to the normal body temperature though, he experienced a craving he never did before. The meat was still raw and red, it would’ve repulsed him before. Yet, he thirsted for it right now.

He sighed and closed his eyes. One of the changes had already arrived, and it was one of the undesirable ones. Cats liked fresh kill, they liked meat that was still warm, fresh, and bloody. Now Ewan craved it too. But he didn’t give in. It was only an instinctual want; he could still suppress it. And so, he continued cooking the meat and warmed up the milk on the side stove.

When the meat went past a certain point, still raw but beyond the normal body temperature, his instincts also simmered down. He prepared a tiny milk bottle for Toast after checking its temperature on his inside wrist and sliced the meat in half for Orange and the little Imp. Orange could also eat solid food now, much to his delight. He didn’t have to stare at Ewan’s food while drinking his milk anymore.

When Ewan put them both on the countertop, the Imp calmed down and attended to the food. As they both ravaged the meat, Orange pointed at the Imp and complained with all his vigor. A piece of meat hung from his mouth as he hooted with a muffled voice. Their bond conveyed his whines and gripes about why the Imp didn’t have to drink milk. Ewan shook his head in defeat as he had no solution for it. Any explanation would only waste his energy, he could only let things be.

The cliched fight between ice and fire—the reality of his house was proving why society deemed it a cliché. The future didn’t look too peaceful.

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Spoiler: Chapter-25 Blood

Chapter-25 Blood

The white-out stopped after a few days but the snow held the colony down. Since he could do nothing else, Ewan put all his focus into training his Astylinds and his own studies. And after a few drills in the basement, the Imp’s skill, Ice-Favored, distinguished itself.

If Orange showed his talent by instinct, then Frost, as Ewan named him, proved his genius by conscious actions. The Favored-level affinity boosted his knack with the ice element spells, the sheer ease with which Frost controlled the Ice-Anima surpassed the extent of Ewan’s rune.

Today too, they all remained in the basement. Ewan held Toast in his arms and fed him lukewarm milk while Orange rammed through the cardboard maze and Frost hurled a tiny icicle at the wall, grinding his casting stability. It exploded, and a few shattered shards pelted Orange who was preparing to start again. He halted, the ice shards melting in his fur, and turned towards Frost who stared back at him with an unrelenting gaze.

“Not again…,” Ewan grumbled as his two Astylinds jumped at each other with a feral howl. Frost grabbed Orange’s fur; Orange pulled Frost’s tail. They wrestled on the ground and rolled around. Frost scratched Orange’s back, Orange bit Frost’s neck; they both drew blood. Left and right, they rolled and tussled.

“That’s enough.” He was stern but kept his voice low for Toast.

The two broke free at once and stood upright in front of him, panting as their limbs shivered. Disheveled fur, twitching tail, they had their heads down but glared at each other from the corner of their eyes.

Ewan sighed with his head down, they needed to fight together in the future… He didn’t separate them when training with that in mind. It also fueled their rivalry, and they trained harder when together. But they were magnets, one hint of spark and they went at each other with ferocity. He overlooked their scuffles up to a point but had to interfere when they drew blood.

“Sit.”

He sat on the wooden chair he brought from the house and had them sit up on the table. After putting Toast on the temporary bed he made with clothes and a blanket, he cleaned their wounds and applied some antiseptic. Their vitality would do the rest.

“Hmm, go back.”

He patted them and the two resumed their drills. Sparks still flew between them at times, but no fights broke out. Ewan regained peace, at least for some time.

….

[Vin]

Residential Area, Zone-D.

“Vin, did you wash my uniform?” Teal yelled from inside.

“Yeah, they were too dirty,” Vin replied as he gazed at the white snow outside the time-battered window. The heavy snow might not have affected the rich much, but it gave him a headache. His savings almost ran dry. He lied to his sister several times these last few days that they had enough, that she could eat as much as she wanted—he could starve for days, she couldn’t.

Luckily, the blizzard stopped, and the work would soon resume.

“You idiot, why did you wash them now?” she said. “They all froze.” She showed him the checkered brown skirt in her hand, frozen into a solid block.

“My bad. Leave them, I’ll deal with that later. What about your school? Still not open?”

“What, you don’t like me staying at home?”

Vin sighed. “Why’d I even ask?”

Teal pouted but still replied, “They’ll distribute the Astylinds soon, so it should open in a few days.”

Vin frowned. “Teal.”

“I know, I know, we’re selling that. I won't contract it, don’t worry.”

“Teal, we’re humans. We live our time and die; we can't become monsters.”

“Ah, don’t start your cult thing again. I got it already.”

Vin shook his head with a helpless smile. “Give me that.” He gestured at the hairband.

Teal was a head shorter than him; he stood behind her and gathered her long black hair. “Did you wash your hair?” he asked. They were wet, cold, and smelled of their usual shampoo with a strong hint of lavender.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t wash it so often, you’ll catch a cold.” He rubbed them with his t-shirt before tying them into a ponytail with the hairband.

“You’re so dirty, Vin.”

“It’s called being efficient.” He smacked her head.

Teal blew the hair strands that came to her eyes “Give me two Sols. I’m going out with Rynn,” she said.

“Where’re you going in this weather? Just stay home and study. Your finals will be soon, no?”

“I’m bored, we’ll only play for a bit. I promise I’ll be back before evening,” she turned and said with a beaming smile, the biggest weakness of her big brother.

Faced with that, Vin could only agree. He earned for her, if she didn’t spend it, who would. He only worried about not having enough food during the blizzard, so he cut down on other expenses. But the situation was improving now, things would get better for sure.

Yet, when he waved goodbye to his sister and closed the rusted creaking main gate, he received a mind-numbing message from work on his aged and bruised phone. The increased prices of raw materials cut into their profit shares. To maintain efficiency, they were downsizing, and they let him go.

…..

[Ewan]

Early morning, in the kitchen.

Ewan repeated the process with the seed and used the last container of blood he had. With his current nutritious diet and improved physique, he recovered from hypovolemia sooner than the last time. He was ready to contract his final Astylind now.

Blood splattered as the dagger ran down his wrist and he traced the spell circuit.

Contract.

As usual, the connection strengthened when the blood cocoon thinned, thread by thread. Soon, the spell ended, and the contract succeeded. The seed on the kitchen slab trembled and sprouted a tiny pale pinkish bud. A frail consciousness touched Ewan’s soul; he could crush it by mistake if he didn’t pay attention, as was the case with the plant types in general. Incoherent thoughts, basic instincts; that was all he received from the bud.

He frowned, because one word prevailed among those thoughts. ‘Blood’, the bud thirsted for it. Instead of the wood element, the seed was of the blood element. A blood-red spherical rune now gleamed in his soul space.

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Spoiler: Chapter-26 Change of Plans

Chapter-26 Change of Plans

Identify.

[Astylind Name: Blood Lotus]

[Astylind Level: Level-0]

[Astylind Grade: Grade-D]

[Anima Affinity: Blood]

[Skills: Blood-Recipient]

[Gender: Female]

[Description: Extinct natives of Sepra. They had decent affinity with Blood-Anima (Recipient) but lacked the means to protect themselves. Delicate and feeble. They lost the battle of natural selection.]

[Grade-Exalt Requirements: Astylind Core (Blood), Blood Stone, Astylind Blood, Bone Marrow.]

[Remark 1: Can be used as an ingredient for potions. Useless otherwise.]

[Remark 2: Decent choice for a healing type Astylind. But lack strong evolution branches.]

[Remark 3: I don’t like them. They’re nasty~]

[Remark 4: Special evolution path found. Focus should be on its grade.]

Ewan read all the remarks but paid special attention to the last one, which could be from his Pa. The relation between the evolution and the grades was a new thing for him, no one taught it in the class. He made a mental note to read up on it and focused on the bud for now.

She thirsted for blood, and her craving tingled his soul. But before feeding her the leftover Astylind blood, he did a test. He sliced his right palm and offered her his blood.

The pinkish bud quivered; her intense furor flooded Ewan’s senses. Yet, she rejected him. No matter how much he enticed her with it, she didn’t go for his blood. He smiled once he confirmed this.

“Good girl.” She swayed on his caress.

Ewan prepared a small dishware and poured the Astylind blood in it for her. And this time, she didn’t shy away. A tiny root struggled out of the seed and reached for the blood. As she sucked, the bud’s color deepened, and she gained a red luster. Little by little, she gulped down the rest of it—the pinkish bud now turned wine red.

Ewan stood to the side, licking his wound. The taste of iron tingled his instinct, but his reason smothered it.

Now that all the contracts were over, he had to make plans. He needed resources to grow, much more than an average Step-0 Severynth; he had four Astylinds after all. Toast didn’t need any resources for he was one with Ewan, but his other Astylinds did. His Pa left him a good number of Novas and Anima Crystals. But he couldn’t rely on only them forever, he needed to source his earnings.

Hunting, it was the first thing that popped into his head. Yet, before marching out, he needed to make sure he and his Astylinds were up to par. On top of that, he also needed to prep. From information to necessities, he had to make some trips to the hub again.

…..

Ewan’s days monotonized. Apart from his daily needs, he only trained. He drilled his Astylinds and drew the spell circuits; he studied the related books and experimented with the ideas he had. He had three elemental runes now—Fire, Ice, and Blood. He ignored the fire for now, as his Spellbook missed this element, and focused on the other two.

<Ice Daggers>, he picked this spell for his first focus. It had a low min and a high max Anima point—its cost spectrum spanned larger than many other spells in the Spellbook. Ewan could cast it twice now and could also keep using it in higher stages.
The only issue was that its circuit had no targeting mechanism. It didn’t act like a normal spell because of this. Instead, it contained a structure that enhanced Ryvia, a skill that most Ashevas had, in one form or the other—Severynths and Cerades gained it after their third awakening. But before that, it was weaker than even <Ember>. It couldn’t hit its target unless the caster was an expert at throwing knives.

Ewan chose it with the future in mind. By the time of his third awakening, which he set as the minimum requirement for hunting, he would become adept at tracing its spell circuit.

Ice Daggers!

He read the Spellbook in his left hand and followed the spell circuit diagram. This was his fifth attempt, and he succeeded. The Ice-Anima left his ice rune and flew through the circuit he created. He only used enough to reach the spell’s min Anima point, and it activated.

However… Ewan’s muscles tightened, his face flushed and contorted, veins bulged on his neck and forehead. The frictional force combined with the resistance wreaked havoc inside his body. The spell succeeded, yet the result was a tiny blunt and disfigured ice dagger floating before his right palm.

He cancelled the spell and collapsed on all fours, breathless and gasping. Frost and Orange halted their training and rushed to him.

Bottle…

His throat grated when he breathed, so he told them through their connection. Frost dashed to the table and grabbed him the bottle of water while Orange stood in front of him, silent and confused.

After gulping down large mouthfuls of the cold water, Ewan lay flat on the floor, staring at the white ceiling, his limbs spread apart. The cold floor comforted his spasming muscles, and his heaving chest rested a few moments later.

Mr. Worth sure downplayed the side effects of having different elemental runes a lot in his class, Ewan wanted to punch that old bastard in the nose. This was the first time he cast a spell after he gained the ice and the blood elemental rune. And the negative impact was a lot worse than just a weakened spell.

“Go back. Its fine now.”

When his Astylinds returned to training, he sat in the corner with his books and his notebook. He had a theory on why it happened and how to overcome it but needed to confirm it.

After scribbling for half an hour, he verified the reason and let it go once it satiated his curiosity. The different Anima were in balance inside his body, it was the cause for what happened. If he made any one element the dominant party, it could solve the problem. The body modification techniques that Mr. Worth mentioned must work on this basis. He had no intention of following the same path though, he had the ‘Elementalist’ path.

“I should start with that…,” he murmured. The spells were out of his reach for now, not until he completed a part of the first layer of his body modification at least. The ‘Elementalist’ subtype would reveal its glory only after the completion of the modifications and the circuit setup, but its passive effect of taming the Anima would show up from the beginning.

The combined feedback from his Astylinds, excluding Toast, pushed his Spirit to 2.6 in the last week. He could try the hub again and look for the ingredients.
Another brief read of its book detailed what he needed for its completion. The first layer, ‘Heart of Anima’, required potions. Because it had its own recipe, he couldn’t buy it anywhere and had to create it himself. And for that, he needed tools.

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Spoiler: Chapter-27 Tower of Failures

Chapter-27 Tower of Failures

The glossy white metal walls brightened the basement as always. Echoes of Orange blasting through the cardboard maze and Frost freezing the wall then cracking the ice rolled in the empty hall. Toast slept inside Ewan’s wheel tattoo while Iris, his new Astylind, remained in the blood rune.

Ewan put the beaker with the black sludge on the table and fanned the stenchy fumes away with the hand fan. Once the air around him was clear, he slumped on the chair, his legs spread, and let out a defeated grumble. This was his ninth attempt, and his ninth failure. He spent three Novas on ten sets of ingredients, only one set remained now.

After resting, he stretched his stiff body, his joints popped, and rinsed the beaker and the test tubes in the bucket by the side. He also sterilized them with alcohol and wiped them dry with a clean cloth before starting again.

The base of the potion was an ice based Aennon solution. Ms. Ridgell praised it as revolutionary and extoled the man who invented it—Aennon Cokon. A vital ingredient that shaped modern Potioneering, she often stressed.

If only there were practical classes…. Ewan shook his head.

After heating the solution on the burner up to the mentioned temperature, he took the beaker off and left it aside to cool down. One Level-0 Astylind Core of ice element and pure blood from an ice-type Astylind, these two were the main components for this potion, while some other accompaniment herbs served as catalysts and stabilizers. He measured them all in different test tubes and processed them.

His surgical knife glided on the tiny milky Astylind Core as he engraved a part of a spell circuit on it. The powdered core fell on the table which he wiped away with a rug before dropping the carved core into the cooling solution. After giving it a stir, he poured in the blood and let it rest, as the swirls of red blended into white.

His leg bobbed up and down as he sat back and watched the solution change color. The moment the red overwhelmed the contents then allowed a bloom of white, he snatched the beaker, the liquid sloshed on its wall, and sent in his spirit. And the solution bubbled. The core melted, the red faded away, and it all turned snowy white. Its temperature nose-dived and the glass beaker frosted.

Ewan waited for the solution and his spirit to stabilize before adding in the rest of the ingredients, one by one. Different ingredients caused different effects on the solution. One agitated it, the other caused the temperature to rise before plunging again. One formed a frozen crust on top, while the other cancelled all effects and neutralized the solution.

It was a smooth ride up till this point. Yet, the next moment, the solution seethed and blackened. It emanated a vomit inducing fume and heated up the beaker.

He failed again…

“AHHH!!”

Ewan clutched his hair and banged his head against the table, again and again, rattling the glass tools. No talent, he was worthless, he repeated in his head. Ten sets of ingredients, ten failures, he didn’t even see a glint of success.

Positive! Positive!!

He rubbed his face and took a deep breath. They said a tower of failures always gave birth to the peak of success. He wanted to believe that; he needed to believe that. At least it wasn’t all a waste, he gained precious experience. Where he made mistakes, which parts he could improve on, the ten trials told him all that.

…….

[Vin]

Residential Area, Zone-D.

Vin followed the cheap ‘How To’ book he bought at a stall and applied some basic makeup to hide his pale face and cracked lips. The Frosthelm sky darkened in the early hours; Teal would come home soon. He stuffed all the tools back into the bag with shaky hands and threw it under his bed. A bout of dizziness assaulted him when he got up, his vision blurred, and he collapsed on the bed. His breath was rough and rapid, cold sweat drenched his back, and his heart raced. The feeling of emptiness from the core was a new experience for him. And it wasn’t a pleasant one.

The main gate opened with its distinct creak—Teal was home. Vin couldn’t let her see him like this, so he dragged his body up, unfolded his shirt’s sleeves to hide the needle marks, and went out of the room.

“You were home?” Teal asked, throwing her bag onto the tattered and patched sofa, and unzipping her skirt.

“Yeah, I’m leaving for work now. How was school? Anything new?”

“Mr. Wells caught Rynn today. She was fucking some guy on the roof. Her boyfriend was so pissed.” She chuckled.

“Teal,” Vin said in a low voice.

“Sorry, she was ‘fornicating’ with some guy,” she said.

“Teal!” He raised his voice, and that alone took everything. He wobbled and the world spun before his eyes.

“Okay, okay. I won't say it again.” Luckily, she faced the other way and was taking off her uniform. Vin leaned on the door handle and stabilized himself.

“By the way, did you wear makeup today?” she turned and said after stripping down to her white undies with a cute puppy face on it.

Vin’s heart skipped a beat. “Y-Yeah, my job changed. I-It’s about meeting customers now, so I have to dress up.”

“You left your old one?”

“N-No, same job. But different work now.” The web of lies he spun deepened with each answer.

“Hmm, see you then. I’ll go take a nap.” She headed to her room.

“Teal.” He eyed her.

She heaved a sigh and picked up her uniform from the floor.

“Shoes too,” he said.

She put the shoes in their place with another sigh and trudged to her room. Vin smiled and went out once she closed her door.

Today too, he would earn Sols to sustain her current peaceful life. The job market ran desolate under the current circumstances, no one hired him even after several tries. So, he had to take extreme measures. Even so, the legitimate places rejected his form when they checked his needles marks. He could only sell his blood on the black market now. Good thing he had a colleague—ex colleague, really—who introduced him to a place.

This solution wasn’t feasible in the long term, especially with the skyrocketing costs, but it had to do for the time being. Once Teal got her Astylind from the school, it would ease their financial crisis. At that time, he could rely on its sale to continue their lives and keep looking for another job that could afford her costs—quick work on a daily income basis couldn’t support her after all. The law might’ve banned the Astylinds’ trades among the public but selling it to the War Dogs was still legal.

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Spoiler: Chapter-28 Modification

Chapter-28 Modification

[Ewan]

Ewan grinned at the frosted and frigid test tube as a snow-white watery liquid sloshed in it. The taste of success after so many failures was utterly delightful, it blew away all his negative thoughts and boosted his confidence. He could create the rest of the potions needed for this technique with enough practice, he was sure now.

Eagerness filled him; he couldn’t wait to use the potion. His <Identify> spell already confirmed its effect, there were no problems with it. He loaded the potion into the injector gun he purchased from the hub and shot it into his left-hand vein.
A metallic taste invaded his palate and throat as the icy liquid traveled up his arm, leaving behind a thin layer of frost on his skin in its wake. Ewan used his spirit to lead the liquid to his heart and trapped it there; his chest chilled, and wintry mist seeped out of his mouth and nose.

Once it settled down, the potion took effect and webbed his heart, modifying it with every passing second. Ewan clutched his chest and groaned; each heartbeat assaulted him with a wave of pain. The chilled air felt colder, even in his thick ivory down-jacket, he shivered—goosebumps ran on his skin. Gradually, the pain subsided, and he hugged himself into silence, his head buried in his chest. His breaths were quiet and regular, but his back still trembled from the cold. The chills spreading away from his heart didn’t help his state either, it made it worse instead. His fingers and toes numbed; he couldn’t feel them anymore.
He tried to shout and call Orange, yet all that came out was a shaking whisper and a steamed breath. He was his Astylind though, connected to him with his soul. His thoughts were all Ewan needed to convey his intentions.

Orange!

The little monkey jumped out of the cardboard maze and beelined to Ewan while screeching; Frost stopped practicing too and rushed to him. Orange jumped on his shoulder and vented his Fire-Anima. He didn’t use its explosive nature but heated up the surroundings.

The temperature rose and Ewan gained some respite, he stopped shivering and his goosebumps settled down. The warmth countered the frigid wave spreading inside his body and balanced his condition. He didn’t take any other measure against it though. This was the process of modification, he had to go through this if he wanted to complete the technique. In hindsight, it would’ve been better to use this potion later when Frosthelm season was gone. The fire potion instead would’ve been a better choice for this weather. Nonetheless, the past was past. He could only learn from it, not change it.

After a good while, the biting chill died down and he slouched back on the chair. Orange grabbed his hair and jumped up and down on his shoulders, squeaking with every landing. Frost stood still on the table, his steady gaze reflecting Ewan’s drained figure.

It’s over now.

There were still several potions he had to go through. But for now, he relished the success with a weak yet satisfied smile.

…..

Stubborn dark clouds hid the moons, even the tree bending wind couldn’t move them. Ewan perched atop the artistic false chimney, the peak of his mansion, his hair dancing wild with the gale. His eyes shone an emerald-green and gave off a predator’s aura. Everything in his neighborhood was crystal clear to him, even in the dim and dark night.

Nana slumped out cold in her balcony as always, a bottle of half-empty dark rum dangling in her hand. She still wore her uniform and had no blanket on; it was a wonder how she survived the wintry nights.
His childhood friend, Verina, giggled on the phone in her bedroom; her parents bickered in theirs.
The young couple cuddled in the same quilt on their porch, across from his house, and drank from the same mug of steaming beverage. Even the bleak wind couldn’t dissipate the pink warmth around them.

Ewan looked towards Nana again, his green irises quivered—she was different today. From the low-proof liquors to the high-proof rum, she upped her alcohol game. She might be at her limit… If her life continued like this, he might hear about her never waking up soon, and the thought filled him with fraught. He gazed at her, his heart in turmoil. But after a few minutes of tumbling thoughts and considerations, he suppressed his urge to help her. She chose her way of life, and with their relationship in tatters, he couldn’t deny her choice, even if he wanted to. His unsolicited help might even aggravate her situation, he didn’t want to risk damage to her or their already frayed connection.

He sighed and jumped off the chimney, landing in the balcony on all fours. His knees bent and his fingers absorbed the shock, a silent touch down. It felt good to follow the lingering instinct in his soul from time to time, orgasmic even, especially when he suppressed it for so long. But he couldn’t let it dictate his life.

He lounged on the recliner and sipped the warm milk left on the table.

“Blegh, so fucking bland.”

He stirred in almost ten times the sugar he used to add. Yet, it still tasted vapid. Some changes were favorable to him, but others only left him bitter. At this point, he could only wish the negative effects would mellow out in the future and he would be able to taste sweet food again.

He chugged the milk and put the mug back on the table. Even if it tasted flat, he still needed to drink it. Wiping his mouth, he took out a test tube half-filled with an orange liquid. It was the fire potion, needed for the ‘Elementalist’ modification. Ninth attempt marked his success this time, much better than his fifteen trials last time. Frosthelm wasn’t over yet, far from it actually. The freezing weather could counter the side effects of this potion—the reason he chose it.

He brought Frost out from inside the ice rune and punctured himself with the injector gun. The warmth of the liquid turned searing hot as it traveled along his vein. The metallic taste filled his mouth and throat again as he used his spirit and guided the potion to his heart. And his chest singed from the inside, it was several times worse than any heartburn he ever had.

The modification part came next, the same torturous pain would soon ensue. Ewan only hoped the weather and Frost’s support would be enough to ease it.

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Spoiler: Chapter-29 2nd Awakening

Chapter-29 2nd Awakening

His sweat froze on his face, his wet hair iced. A hint of heat still sauntered inside his body, as if he ran a super marathon. He lay motionless on the recliner, his chest heaving. While Frost stood on the table, controlling the Ice-Anima to maintain a low temperature around him—his focus was Ewan’s head.

Two parts of the first layer ended after the fire potion modified his heart. Fire-Anima and Ice-Anima suppressed the Blood-Anima in his body but remained in harmony with each other now. Once he recovered, Ewan tried nudging both Anima, his shoulders tensed from the fresh memory of the agony—he gently tugged at the Anima before he fully employed them.

His body still resisted their movement, but the incomplete spell circuit in his heart nulled the friction between them. He eased up and heaved a sigh of relief. This meant he could cast fire and ice spells from now on. Their effects would diminish because of the resistance but he wouldn’t experience the agonizing pain anymore. It would be same as when he cast <Ember> before. A large burden was off his mind.

Eleven elements, eleven potions; two done, nine left. The rest he could complete over time, but he needed to finish the blood potion before practicing his spellcasting again.

And he had to prepare for his second awakening too. Frost leveled up over the last few weeks, he was now Level-1. Much to Orange’s dismay and annoyance, he also grew taller and came only a bit short of Ewan’s knees. His growth shot up the feedback Ewan received, but he was now at a standstill. His ‘Spirit’ reached 2.9 and stopped growing. A paper-thin layer blocked his soul from getting stronger. He needed to break that.

Not tonight though, the tussle with the potion wore him out. Breakthrough could wait till tomorrow, tonight he would wheeze.

…..

Spirit like ripples, Mr. Worth often said. It was the most efficient method to break through the initial soul blockades. Ewan sat in the basement, his hand at his navel, his eyes closed, his breaths routined. The frigid floor chilled his bum through the black pajamas, the silence rang in his ears, and his heart thumped in a rhythm.

In his soul space, the transparent puddle of spirit reflected the three elemental runes floating above. Orange, White, Red, they glowed with different halos. Ewan concentrated on his spirit puddle and plucked the center, the puddle rippled but had no effect on the blockade. Ewan plucked his spirit again, and again. The ripples resonated with each other and became violent waves with each shock. The puddle billowed but couldn’t grow, a metaphorical film broke its advance.

He lost all sense of time, but it should’ve been less than an hour since he started; his stomach had yet to growl. His temples ached but he didn’t stop. He still had enough stamina to continue.

Time passed and his stomach finally rumbled. His spirit puddle also erupted at the same time and clobbered his head. He jerked back, his nose bled, his ears buzzed. His body exuded a sickening sweet smell again. He’d become insensitive to sweet taste because of his change. But he could still smell the overwhelming syrupy sweetness coming from his body.

The puddle of spirit grew, and the feedback from his Astylinds flooded in again. He wiped the blood off his lips and nose and cast <Identify>.

…

…

…

His ‘Spirit’ soared to 3.2, his stagnant ‘Vitality’ also went up to 1.3. And his status showed ‘2nd Awakening’ now.
It was a matter of celebration but the crisp doorbell reverberating in the empty basement cut it short—it was a handy and neat feature that Ewan discovered in the control panel.

“Nana?” He received an unexpected guest once he opened the door.

“You still call me that,” she said with a sheepish laugh, twiddling her thumbs. It was Havanna, his always drunk neighbor, his fiancé, and the person he was once the closest to. The dark circles under her eyes, the wilted hair, the chapped lips, the dry skin, and the lingering scent of liquor—she looked haggard in her casual pajamas and worn-down slippers. Even her voluptuous figure couldn’t counter that.

“You’ve grown taller,” she said. “I have to look up to you now.”

“I have,” Ewan said with a smile; he was half a head taller than her. “Come in.” He led her through the courtyard and inside the house, her bulging pocket scraping against her thigh and clattering as she walked.

“You awakened?” she asked.

“Hmm, a while back, this was the second.” Ewan nodded, the sweet smell around him was hard to miss. “Don’t mind the dust,” he said, slapping the sofa and fanning the brown cloud away with his hand before sitting her down. After he poured her a glass of water, he took a seat on the opposite one.

“Did I disturb you?” She held the glass with both her hands. Her knees huddled together; she sat on the edge of the sofa.

“You didn’t, don’t worry,” Ewan said.

She nodded and sipped from her glass, staring at the floor. The familiarity and the closeness they once shared was no more, the awkward air had long seeped in between them, stemming from the lack of interaction for years, especially during the time they both changed.

“I-I wanted some advice.” Her voice shook and dimmed down.

“About Astylinds?”

Her shoulders tightened; she gave a meek nod.

“Go on,” he said.

“I-I wanted to buy one. H-How do I do that?”

Ewan stared at her and exhaled a sigh.

“Nana, buying Astylinds like that is banned. You should know that.” She was focusing on law studies in the first institute and was good at it. Between the two, she was more of an expert in this area. “Unless you convince someone to give it to you for free, there’s no hope. You can't find it even on the black market.” He received Orange like that, so the loophole could work for her too.

She tightened her grip on the glass and bit her lips—it bled. “Is there really no other way?”

His eyes wavered as he stared at her devastated figure—that desperation, that hopelessness, and her desolated spirit teetering at the end of its road yanked the skeletons of the emotions buried in his heart. He couldn’t bear to see her this way…

“What happened to the one you received from the school?” he asked.

“I-I didn’t receive it.” She shrank away.

And the hall hushed as Ewan lowered his head in deflation, his eyes closed; her situation was too similar to his…

“Did you open your soul space?” he asked. It had been about a year since her eighteenth birthday. If she hadn’t opened it, there was little hope for her now for the Severynth path.

She bobbed her head.

“There might be a way then, but I can only be a mediator.”

She beamed; her eyes opened wide. “R-Really?”

“Can you afford it?” he asked.

“I should have enough.” Her chapped lips broke because of her smile, it bled even more.

“You can't buy it with Sols.” He got up and fetched her a lip balm from the kitchen, gesturing at her lips—it looked too painful.

“I-I have the crystals.” She took out the bulging pouch from her pocket and handed it to him before applying the lip balm.

“You shouldn’t carry it around like that,” he murmured and weighed it—about a third of what he had. Whether it was enough to buy an Astylind from the hub or not though, he wasn’t sure. If it wasn’t, he could add from his stack…

“I’ll see what I can do. What kind do you want to buy?”

“Any will do. I don’t have any preference.”

Ewan nodded. “I’ll contact you later then.” He returned the pouch and escorted her out.

“Nana,” he said when at the main door, and she turned around. “This is not a charity. I’ll cash in this favor one day.”

“I-I understand,” she said in a faint voice.
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Spoiler: Chapter-30.1 Havanna [Part-I]

Chapter-30.1 Havanna [Part-I]

[Havanna—Five years ago]

“What’re you making Havanna?” May, her bestie, turned around and asked, her chin resting on Havanna’s desk. Recess time washed away the fatigue, even the laziest bunch who snored during the classes now romped around, their garbled chatters and cackles permeating the classroom.

“Hmm…” Havanna scratched her head with her bandaged thumb and gave a mindless reply, blocking out the noises and focusing on weaving the neck gaiter.

“What are you making? Ooii….” May knocked on the desk.

“Hmm? What?”

May tapped on the charcoal-colored cloth and the sewing set on the desk. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Gaiter,” Havanna replied, gesturing towards her neck.

“Why’re you making it yourself?” she asked. “Just buy one.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Handmade? For who?” May asked. “Sorry, for whom?” She emphasized the change, mimicking Ms. Palma, their teacher of the common tongue.

Havanna changed the needle and sewed a section, then checked the gaiter as a whole—the newest part curved to the right. But this was just a practice piece, mistakes would only fuel her improvement, so she let the problem be and continued.

“Tell me.” May shook Havanna’s hand back and forth, pouting. “Please,” she said, stretching out the word.

Havanna clicked her tongue and stopped weaving. “Don’t disturb me,” she said. “These needles hurt a lot.”

“Just tell me then,” May murmured and lay her head on Havanna’s desk, still pouting. “Is it for him?” she jerked up and asked, her eyes glittering with a wide smile.

Havanna bobbed her head. “His birthday’s coming soon. I couldn’t even wish him last two times; I’m going to make up for it this time.”

Her mind wandered to Ewan; his current state worried her. He looked better than he did two years ago, but his eyes were still dead, and he often forced his smile for others. The neighbors gossiped he was doing well, that he got over uncle’s death and was living a good life now. They couldn’t tell, but she could, she spent all her childhood with him after all.

“Didn’t your parents tell you to not contact him?” May asked. “Why did they do that anyway? Weren’t your families super close?”

“Don’t know, they don’t tell me anything. I didn’t even know we had to move,” Havanna said. “But I’m not going to listen this time.” She clenched her fist.

“Maybe it’s because he’s unlucky or cursed.”

“He’s not.” Havanna scowled at May.

“Okay, okay.” May pulled back. “But think about it. His mother almost killed him once, his father died so early, his relatives stole all his inheritance, he’s barely surviving. And then you guys bailed too, and when you came back, your parents didn’t want you to contact him,” she said. “It really sounds like he’s cursed.”

“He is not!” Havanna glared, she wanted to punch May’s nose. She wasn’t the only one to say these words, the neighbors and his classmates did too, even the teachers followed along. They must think Ewan wasn’t listening, but he heard it all, because she could too when she was with him. He kept everyone at a distance now, he always had his defense up. If this continued, he would always be alone….

She didn’t know the reason why her parents became so frigid towards him, but they must still care—after all, they always whispered about Ewan and how he was doing when she wasn’t paying attention, when they thought she wasn’t paying attention. If she could convince them that he wasn’t doing well and needed their help, they might let her meet him, or better yet, they might go back to how they were themselves.

“Base station to Havanna. Base station to Havanna, over.”

“What?”

“Where’re you wandering off to? Thinking about him?”

“No.” Havanna started sewing again. “Stop interrupting me. I need to finish this,” she said.

“Fine, fine. By the way, I need to buy something after school. Come with me,” May said.

“I can't. Mum told me to come home early.”

“C’mon, please, I really need to buy this, it’s the last volume of ‘Nocturnals’.” She pressed her hands together and begged. “That bookstore gets super busy, I don’t want to go alone.”

“You’re still reading that creepy stuff?”

“It’s not creepy! It’s literature, you need to read it to understand,” May said.

“Fine.” Havanna sighed. “But I have to get back by evening.”

“Yay!”

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Spoiler: Chapter-30.2 Havanna [Part-II]

Chapter-30.2 Havanna [Part-II]

She’s going to kill me today…

Havanna scurried towards her house, even dashed at times, her schoolbag slamming on her back when she did, the bear-shaped keychain clanking away. The streetlights were already on, the new ones burned bright while the old ones flickered, insects buzzing around the bulbs. And even though she was glad to have them light up her path, she wished they didn’t, for every patch of light she passed reminded her that she was late, too late.

Her mum told her to come home early, she didn’t ask. Now if only her dad could distract her mum and take the heat again…

I won't go down by myself!

At worst, she would put all the blame on May, it was her fault anyway. She dragged her around for this long, first the bookstore then the clothes showroom. In the end, she didn’t even buy anything except the book she wanted.

The final turn, and she was on the homestretch. She could already see Ewan’s house, his door shut as always at this hour of the day, and after that was hers.

The lights were off, and the windows veiled the insides. Had they gone out? She thought. A bleak hope bloomed in her heart; she just might survive this if they did. The well-oiled main gate opened smoothly. Tiptoeing her way across the small courtyard-garden, avoiding the crisp dried leaves, she unlocked the door with her key and sneaked in.

“Mum, I’m home,” she whispered, but the dogs barking in the alleys was the only reply she got. They’d all gathered near her house this evening for some reason...

“Dad?” She raised her voice this time, but it was still a whisper. The hall was pitch dark, only the outlines of the dining table and the sofas pronounced their presence. The whistling wind coming in through the crevices of the window sighed a ghost’s whispers—the fresh memory of the ‘Nocturnals’ painted the resemblance. The weird smell in the air twitched her nose, it was metal of some kind, iron perhaps… Her own house greeted her like a stranger today, an eerie stranger.

“Are they really out?” she murmured while taking off her shoes and putting them in the shoe cabinet. With the slippers on, she groped for the light switches on the left wall and tapped them on.

And they brightened the hall with a dazzling white light…

Two headless bodies lay on the dining table, holding hands. A crescent guillotine blade with a long rope attached to it stabbed the wooden table, just beyond their necks. Two chopped heads with their eyes closed and serene smiles rested on the drenched crimson floor, not far from the table.

Paint?

She looked at the thick red liquid trickling down the table, flooding the floor, then stared at the heads—her mind pulled a blank. The two heads looked like her mum and dad, but that wasn’t possible. Her parents were still alive, the heads couldn’t be theirs, it couldn’t be….

The heavy stench of iron in the air smothered her, or she might not be breathing at all, she couldn’t tell anymore. Her vision blurred; her knees buckled as the realization seeped in. It was all a nightmare, it must be a nightmare, she heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed on the floor. And the world went dark.

…..

“It’s a cruel way to kill someone.” A woman whispered near her.

Who is it?

Havanna wanted to speak but no voice came out. Her body didn’t listen to her either, her eyelids were leaden, and her chest weighed on her.

“If only someone noticed it earlier, they could be saved.” A different voice whispered this time.

“It was a candle, right? Alas.”

What’re they talking about?

A sigh followed. “If only she came home earlier.”

“Shh. She might hear you.”

“Don’t worry, she’s knocked out cold.”

“What’re you guys doing here? Stop gossiping and do your job.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two whisperers said.

It was my fault…What was?

Her world fell into silence again.

…..

“I’m sorry Havanna. I didn’t want to do it, I was forced to,” May said, her pitch undulating. Her body snaked around, blood dripping down her face. She stood beside the dining table in the hall. A candle flickered near her, and a taut rope stretched above it, tied to a guillotine blade hanging above the dining table.

“I told you to come home early. If only you did…” Her mum turned her head towards Havanna and said, lying on the table, her eyes going round and round in the socket.

“It wasn’t your fault. It was all fated,” her dad said, lying beside her mum, staring at the guillotine blade with a serene smile. Soon his facial skin melted and only his muscles, fat, and skull remained. “It was all fate,” he said in grinding whispers.

The candle charred the rope and burned it away. Havanna sobbed and reached out to snuff its fire, but her feet kept her still, and the ground glued her back. She watched on, her tears drenching her face then her neck, as the candle incinerated the rope and the guillotine blade plunged for her parents, cleaving their heads off, the thud announcing their death.

A deafening roar shook her world and jolted her. Havanna woke up in her bed, gasping for air, drenched in sweat, clutching the bed sheets. The ceiling fan was wobbly and blurry, she rubbed her teary eyes.

Five years…you still won't let me go….

Tiny rays of light poured in through the curtain gaps, dust floating around. It must be daylight already, she had overslept, like always.

Skip school today…

Her undies were wet and sticky, her temples ached in waves, her broken lips hurt. She curled up and covered herself with the blanket again. It was already way past school time; it was better to sleep some more.

Yet, a bellow barged in, quivering the windowpanes, and jerked her up.

Ewan?

The voice was too familiar, it was of the one whose mere sight supported her on rainy days, his existence kept her going through her torturous life.
She threw the quilt aside and bolted to the balcony, almost tripping over the blanket, the wooden floor echoing the muffled thump of her naked feet.

Fire blazed around on the other side of the fence. Tongues of flame licked and engulfed Ewan’s bare left hand, and it sizzled. Havanna gasped and covered her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks. Even from afar, his agony screamed aloud.

Soon he plunged his hand inside the water bucket. And even the water fizzled from his burning hand, just how hot was it… How much did it hurt… Her cries turned into sobs, and the flood of tears blurred her vision.

…..

Even when the moons replaced the sun and the owls hooted, her tears didn’t relent. His uncaring behavior for pain, his brutality, and his tender smile for his Astylind, the contrast carved an impression on her.
He was someone she could relate to, they both experienced the same life, not to mention he was the only one left whom she could call family now, even though they had drifted apart. But unlike her, he was already moving forward towards his future. Could she do it too? Could she too make something of her life? Could she get rid of her guilt and walk ahead? A seed of hope took root, budded, and bloomed.

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Spoiler: Chapter-31 Water Jay

Chapter-31 Water Jay

[Ewan]

She evoked too many emotions in him and amplified his impulses, he didn’t like it. They once remained glued to each other day and night, engaged, written to be a family one day, but not anymore. All his familial relationships had scarred him, they burnt him too much to restore any old sentiments. Still, he owed Aunt Ella and Uncle Keith this much, he owed Nana this much, and he owed his past self this much…

But before taking any action, he had to confirm a few things. Emotions and attachments aside, he couldn’t be careless even if it was Nana, especially when his ‘relatives’ still targeted him to this day.

…

…

…

Yet another cloudy night. Wind howled; dogs barked; some drunk men hollered an old classic song, ‘Drink along’, in the alley together, butchered the song really. Ewan darted on his rooftop—one end to the other—and leaped off the edge; leveraging his fences, he landed in Nana’s courtyard. Another quiet descent. Her balcony was lower than his, but still too high for him to reach in one jump. There were a couple windowsills on the way though. He latched onto them and after several gravity defying hops and flips, her balcony lay beneath his feet.

Thank you, Toast…

He patted his hands together and dusted them off silently. The latch of the sliding door barely hung by its lock, and the room was dark—this was Nana’s bedroom. She lay on her bed, her back facing Ewan. The light from her phone shone on her face as she stared at its screen.

Ewan hid in a dark corner of the room and crouched down, careful not to step on the empty cans and the bottles strewn around. He waited for seconds, minutes, to confirm whether she had come to him of her own will. Half an hour of staying still numbed his limbs, but he didn’t move. Another half an hour, when Nana finally put the phone away and closed her eyes, he moved. He inched closer, and in one swift step, covered her mouth.

“Shh.” He gestured with the claw-ringed finger on his lips, his irises glowing green.

She clutched the bed sheet, her eyes widened, her shoulders trembled, her chest heaved.

“I’ll ask you some questions. Don’t scream and just answer me. Okay?”

She nodded and made a muffled noise; the pressure bled her lips again.

“Did someone tell you to come to me?” He let go of her mouth and licked the warm blood on his palm—it was bitter, like liquor.

She shook her head, her breaths easing down.

“How did you get so many crystals?”

“D-Dad left them.” Her voice quivered.

“Why did you wait till now?”

“I-I…I couldn’t...”

“Forget it.” He knew why. “What will you do after you get the Astylind?” he asked.

“D-Defense force, medical unit.”

Ewan frowned. “You won't be able to explain the source of your Astylind, forget about it.”

She nodded.

“Nana, I’m not joking. If you’re adamant on that, I won't get you any Astylind.”

She nodded again; a bit strained this time.

“Your phone,” he said. “Unlock it.”

He went through her messages, logs, even her account details. There were no signs of anyone contacting her or paying her in the last few weeks, the last record was from months ago. This was weird in its own way, but Ewan also lived a similar life, so he could relate.

“Crystals.” He beckoned, and she took the pouch out from the bedside table drawer and gave it to him.

“Come see me tomorrow morning, I’ll give you your Astylind. If this much is not enough, I’ll pay the rest.”

He jumped off her balcony when his words ended, when she tried to reply. His fences became his leverage again, and he landed in his own courtyard. Rubbing his face with trembling hands, he took a deep breath and walked into the house, his stomach churning, and nausea assaulting him—he felt sick to his core, and the thorns of regret mauled his heart. What had he done…

She looked horrified right now, she dreaded him. Even when she calmed down, she was still shaking. And when he left, she must’ve cried. This confirmation was necessary, for his safety’s sake and to err on the side of caution. But at what price? She wasn’t any stranger, she was Nana, and he hurt her…

…..

Airadian Hub Stratum.

Water Jay, the books described a small bird with blending white, blue, and black feathers proficient in controlling Water-Anima—their average affinity stood at ‘Recipient’ level. After a back and forth with the shop owner, Ewan bought its suspended egg for ninety Novas. Another Novas went to the blood needed to resuscitate it, and ten more bought a hub-connector. The remaining five Novas he took out in the coin form of water element and put back in the pouch Nana gave him.

Next morning, Ewan welcomed her into the hall and informed her of the Astylind he bought. The unspoken last night burdened the atmosphere, it thickened the awkwardness between them and pulled them further apart.

“If you’re happy with this, contract it. Do it here,” he said, steeling his mind. Even though his actions made him sick, he wouldn’t apologize, because it was necessary for his sake. Yes, it was necessary…

She nodded and stared at the egg bathing in the blood. It radiated a white and blue tint that intensified as time passed. Soon it was ready for the contract.

“Go ahead,” Ewan said.

She took a deep breath and placed the egg on the kitchen countertop with trembling hands. Her gaze never left the egg as she asked for a knife, anything sharp. Ewan lifted his brows, the public spell circuit for <Contract> didn’t require any blood, it would’ve stirred up the community if it did.

The kitchen knife ran across her palm and drew blood, which she used to paint the spell circuit on the back of her hand, grimacing with the pain.

Ewan squinted at the spell circuit—it indeed wasn’t the public version; she had her own inheritance. He looked at her, was that why uncle and aunt died? The blood strokes squirmed and clung to the egg after leaving her hand. They fashioned a similar cocoon that Ewan’s spell made but more compact and thinner.

Nana had her eyes closed, Ewan stared at the cocoon, their breaths synced and rang loud in the silent hall. The cocoon dissolved into the egg with each passing second, and Nana’s smile grew wider. The contract finally succeeded when the last thread melted away, and she beamed.

The eggshell cracked and an ugly bald bird chirped. The harsh echo buzzed in Ewan’s ears. But Nana cradled it, and her eyes misted. She mirrored her old self right now; she smiled a lot back then….

“Here.” Ewan shoved the hub-connector and the pouch in her hands and shooed her away after giving a brief explanation. He wouldn’t know what to do if she cried.

“Wait!” She stopped him when he was about to shut the door. “A-Are you free on your birthday?” she asked.

“I’m going out, Frosthelm festival probably. Why?”

“Oh,” she said, her voice dimming down. “N-Nothing, I was just making a gift for you, b-but it won't be ready on your birthday anyway, so…”

“Its fine, give it to me whenever it’s ready, birthday or not.” Ewan strained a smile; her words weighed on his heart and sharpened his guilt. Even after what he did, she was still asking about his birthday and was making him a gift…. A part of him was grateful to her, that she was willing to let it go and that she didn’t hate him for it, but this only worsened his inner conflict.

“Anything else,” he said.

“N-No,” she stammered.

“Bye then.” Ewan closed the door and heaved a breath of relief a second later, leaning on the wall.

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Spoiler: Chapter-32 Blood Potion

Chapter-32 Blood Potion

“Luna, come back! Luna!!” she screamed.

Ewan sighed and shook his head, the grass tickling his ears. It was a warm afternoon, and he lazed around in the backyard with his Astylinds, basking in the sun. The silence was calming, up until he heard that word again. Luna, how many times Nana had already yelled that in the last week…
Unlike her given name, the bird was anything but serene.

“Luna!!!”

He groaned and covered his ears, turning to the other side. Toast yawned; half his body lay on Orange. Frost sprawled on his stomach; his tail twitched at times; his breath blew the grass. And Iris nested in Ewan’s hair and rolled around.

The noise didn’t bother them, but it irked him. He couldn’t sleep with both the bird and her master making a ruckus.

If he couldn’t rest, it was better to do some work. He got up grumbling and went down to the basement. After the fire and the ice modification parts of the ‘Elementalist’ subtype, his next target was the blood modification.

…

…

…

Seventh attempt, his eyes stung from sweat, his arms numbed, his shoulders and neck stiffened, but he created the blood potion.

…..

The blood dyed the floor red as the steaming water washed it down the drain. Ewan stood under the shower head, leaning on the wall, hot water prickling his skin. It rinsed the blood off, but more seeped out.
The foggy sight of the clock from the gap in the door showed ten minutes, hypovolemic shock was becoming a concern now. Yet he didn’t feel any negative effect so far, except for some weariness and lethargy. The book described this side effect of the blood potion, like the other two potions. ‘It’s Safe’—written in bold letters pacified Ewan and stopped him from taking any preventive measure.

A few minutes later, the water rinsed the last layer of blood away and exposed his fair but molting skin. He lumbered over and lay down in the empty bathtub, short on breath, his shoulders and face steaming and flushed. When his heaving chest eased down, he scrubbed off the dead skin and took a relaxing bath after filling the tub with hot water; the tap fluttered at the end of it and spewed some cold bursts.
The burn scars on his left hand also peeled off when he rubbed them under water, revealing the rosy skin beneath, spotless without any blemish—the molting was another side effect of the blood potion, and it solved a minor problem of aesthetics for him.

This marked the completion of the necessary modifications. He would still carry on with the subtype, creating potions for it, but he could now continue his spell practice. The three Anima existed in a harmonized balance inside his body and his soul space. He wouldn’t have to worry about any conflict between them.

Ewan returned to the basement after putting on black trousers and a white sweatshirt and took out his Spellbook.
Iris went back into the blood rune and slept, Toast climbed his trousers and curled on Ewan’s shoulder, Orange trained using his explosive nature of the Fire-Anima to jump around on the walls and the ceiling. And Frost joined Ewan in practice.

<Ice Daggers>, it was the first spell Ewan chose for his focus. He couldn’t cast it before, but he still studied its spell circuit and analyzed its workings. This was a spell that shone when the Severynths gained a specific skill after their third awakening—Ryvia. It was worthless without it, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t practice it.

Ice Daggers!

A white palm-sized straight dagger floated before Ewan. Since its spell circuit didn’t have any targeting mechanism, he had to adjust its trajectory at the beginning. He aimed at Frost with one eye closed and hurled the dagger.

Frost pushed both his arms forward and created a head-sized ice shield—it hovered in front of him. But the dagger missed the shield and smashed into the floor, shattering into shards.

“Again.” Ewan still had enough Ice-Anima. Frost too had enough for a few more rounds.

Ice Daggers!

He took his time and adjusted his aim to be higher while Frost created another shield and braced himself. The dagger whizzed past him and rammed into the wall, shattering into shards again.

…..

‘Astylinds evolved by burning their potential.’ Ewan highlighted the text in the thick book. Be it the main syllabus or off-course classes, neither covered the topic of grades of an Astylind in depth—it was only a shallow graze whenever they did. He only knew about the difference in combat strength; the dependence of evolution on grades was a new concept for him. The book described it in terms of potential. The higher the grade, the higher the potential, the higher the success rate of evolution.

The fourth remark for Iris, which might be from his Pa given the sentence structure, mentioned a special evolution path for her. ‘Focus should be on its grade,’ it read. But how far should he push it? Would getting her to ‘Grade-B’ be enough, or should he push her all the way to ‘Grade-S’…

Grade-S was the best choice if he wanted to be on the safe side, but the resources needed were drastic. Yet, staying mediocre or missing that special evolution path wasn’t what he wanted for his Astylinds. Especially Iris, because even though she was Level-1 now, she had no ability apart from using her roots to suck blood. Even with the same affinity level as Orange, she had zero combat value. She could cast no spells, and neither could she act as a support.

Still, whether he pushed it all the way or stopped before, he had to take the first step.

Core and blood from a blood-type Level-1 Astylind, Blood Stone, Bone Marrow—these were the ingredients that would upgrade Iris to Grade-C. He chose her first among his Astylinds.

Once he read through and memorized the topic of Astylinds’ evolution and their upgradation process a few times, he put the book aside and connected to the hub. Common sense dictated these ingredients were ordinary and should be available for sale in the general market—her current grade and potential couldn’t touch the higher level of commerce in the stratum.

And indeed, they were. He went through the list and selected several shops selling them. Prices varied but all remained under a reasonable range. The navigation led him around the hub. All sizes of spirits crowded the streets, some humanoid, some blobs, some random, as usual. But Ewan’s point of view, his altitude, was different now. Though he still looked up to most, he also looked down on some. His spirit could support his shopping sessions.

He spent four Novas and bought a single set of ingredients. From Grade-D to C, he only needed to stir a crude solution of the ingredients using a base liquid, not potions. In Iris’s case, it was the Astylind’s blood. It was a simple procedure and had no chance of failure. The only variable was the actual process of upgradation. That depended on his Astylinds, he couldn’t do anything about its success rate.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------
Status: Healthy

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 3.5

Anima: [Fire – 3.5 | Ice – 3.5 | Blood – 3.5]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 76
Sol: 32

 

Spoiler: Chapter-33 Heal

Chapter-33 Heal

The pot of blood boiled on the stovetop as Ewan muddled it with a glass stirrer and added the ingredients one by one. The liquid darkened and thickened by the minute; the ingredients melted away. Once it dripped like a syrup, he switched off the stovetop and put the pot aside in an ice bath to cool down.

Iris lodged on his head, using his hair as her bed and her blanket, her bud swaying in a rhythm. Her consciousness was far too frail and primitive to understand what Ewan was doing. He only sensed her fondness and her reluctance to leave his hair, which intensified when he told her to jump in the now cooled down pot. But she still followed through and slipped in.

The viscous liquid bubbled, and he felt her getting drowsy. She swayed for a bit more and fell silent a minute later. There was nothing Ewan could do to help, everything depended on her from this point on.

He leaned on the kitchen countertop, his arms crossed, his feet tapping the floor at short intervals. The second hand of the clock couldn’t move any slower. He checked up on Iris again, but still no response. His tapping sped up; the wait was killing him.

Finally, a twitch of her bud put him out of his misery. But soon he lowered his head and sighed. The attempt was a failure.

……

[Vin]

Vin leaned on the cracked pillar of his porch, facing the untended overgrown garden bathing in the moonlight. Chips of peeling blue paint stained his white t-shirt, but he only focused on the phone call.

“Hello, Kole?”

“Yeah bro, what’s up.”

“About what we talked before…,” Vin said.

“Yeah.”

“Do you…trust them?”

“Trust is a heavy word, Vin. Business, call it business.”

“Yes, it’s all business with you,” Vin said while massaging his nose bridge.

“What happened? They didn’t give you any work?” Kole asked.

“…They did.”

“Is it…shady?”

Vin stared at the pebbles in the garden, his eyes wavering.

“That much shady?” Kole asked.

“Do you have any other recommendation?” Vin asked.

“Sorry bro. That was the only one I had right now. If you wait a few months, I can try and get you some legitimate work.”

Vin sighed. “We can't manage that long,” he said. And the call quietened; the slight static rang aloud. “I’m not asking you for money, don’t worry.”

“You also know how Treva is. She’ll throw me out on the road if she finds out I lent someone money,” Kole said.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I just wanted to know if you knew anything about these guys,” Vin said.

“What do you wanna know?” Kole asked.

“Who are these guys? They seemed a bit off when we met… Will they bail on the payment?” Teal still hadn’t received her Astylind, things weren’t looking good for them. They needed this money; they needed the Sols.

“Hierarchy, Vin, hierarchy. ‘Do as you’re told’ like that lame Lex used to say. Don’t dig too deep into this. And they’ll pay you, don’t fret. They won't be able to float in our market if they fuck with you, I’ll make sure of that.”

“I just have a bad feeling about this, Kole.”

“One of your premonitions again? C’mon bro, you never got it right,” Kole said, laughing.

“It’s different this time,” Vin said.

“That’s what you said last time. Listen, don’t be nervous, you’ll mess up like that. Relax and just think of the Sols you’ll earn.”

“I’ll try to. But just in case something does happen, can you look after Teal for me? You don’t need to do much, just check up on her from time to time, see if she’s eating well and stuff,” Vin said.

“Sure. Hey, if you die, I’ll leave Treva and marry your sister.” Kole chuckled, and a deafening bang echoed on the phone, buzzing the static; Kole’s deathly screams followed soon.

“who will you leave!!” A woman yelled in the back.

“Ah!! Treva! Not the knife!!” Kole shrieked. “It can cut me, woman!!”

Vin hung up and looked at the moons, mourning for his friend in silence. “It’ll be fine…I’ll be fine,” he murmured and tiptoed back inside the house, hoping the creaking gate wouldn’t announce his entry. His sister slept like a bird…

…..

[Ewan]

In the kitchen.

The second upgrade attempt ended with Ewan’s grin. Iris’s bud had darkened, it moved towards a dull dark red. Her size remained the same, but her roots could extend longer now and were more effective in absorbing blood. Most of all, she gained a skill. Heal—the <Identify> spell appraised it as.

[Astylind Name: Blood Lotus]

[Astylind Level: Level-1]

[Astylind Grade: Grade-C]

[Anima Affinity: Blood]

[Skills: Blood-Recipient | Heal]

[Gender: Female]

[Description: Extinct natives of Sepra. They had decent affinity with Blood-Anima (Recipient) but lacked the means to protect themselves. Delicate and feeble. They lost the battle of natural selection.]

[Grade-Exalt Requirements: Astylind Core (Blood), Bloodwood, Astylind Blood, Blood Rust.]

[Remark 1: Can be used as an ingredient for potions. Useless otherwise.]

[Remark 2: Decent choice for a healing type Astylind. But lack strong evolution branches.]

[Remark 3: I don’t like them. They’re nasty~]

[Remark 4: Special evolution path found. Focus should be on its grade.]

Ewan used a kitchen knife and sliced his palm.

“Heal it,” he said. Her bud shook and swayed. Blood red particles gathered around her and followed her root which she pointed at Ewan’s cut. After a blood tint, his cut shrank and finally closed, only leaving the traces of blood which he licked clean. Though not overwhelming, the effect of her skill left him with a smile. With her, he had a healer now. That was one aspect he wanted to tick off on his list no matter what before going outside the walls.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------
Status: Healthy

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 3.5

Anima: [Fire – 3.5 | Ice – 3.5 | Blood – 3.5]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 72
Sol: 32

 

Spoiler: Chapter-34 Birthday

Chapter-34 Birthday

Morning rays of sunlight beamed in through the open windows, birds tweeted sweet songs, refreshing smell of dewed grass and soil rejuvenated his breath, even Nana’s loud yells were melody to his ears. The world was bright and dazzling, today was a good day, a jolly day—today Ewan turned eighteen.

“Happy birthday, Ewan,” he murmured, stretching on the bed, uttering a comfortable groan.

He scheduled no practice today, no potion brewing, no training, no studying. It would be a day of enjoyment, for his eighteenth birthday only came once.

The Frosthelm festival was a good venue to relish the day; he’d planned for it since weeks ago. But the first order of business was getting a haircut. His hair was getting long, the thin end of the strands already reached the tip of his nose.
After getting ready—a navy blue sweatshirt and black cargo pants with sneakers—he locked his main door, strolled through the residential block, and rode the tram painted in blue and white stripes. The weather remained frigid, chilly wind numbed his face, but the snow had melted away. It hadn’t fallen for quite some time now—the tracks were salty but clear.

The bogie he got in was empty aside from a couple that sat glued to each other. They were at the front, so Ewan chose the back seat; he didn’t want to be the third wheel. The triple-bogie tram moved at its usual pace, about as fast as he could sprint. It wasn’t the optimal choice if he was in a hurry, but it was necessary for long distances.

It crossed the quiet residential block, passing its several zones, and entered the bustling and boisterous market area. And soon, the stink of the fishes and the flies of the meat market forced Ewan to shut the windows. A fork split the path ahead. The left went straight to the skyscrapers—the center of the colony. While the right curved towards the cheap and old but huge residential area zone-D, beyond which lay the farming lands.

“Left?” he yelled.

The boy flirting with his girl turned back towards Ewan and nodded a yes. Ewan selected ‘left’ in the panel beside his seat, and the boy did the same. The tram stopped at this fork for a couple minutes with its doors opened, wintry gusts crossing through. No one got in, it was early morning after all. Only about an hour later would the adults go to work and cram the tram.

The doors closed, the insides warmed up, and the bogie in front broke off to go right. Ewan was in the middle bogie, and it hauled the last one for the left turn.
The now two-bogie tram took Ewan through a protected forest, the residential block zone-C, the Leisure Valley, and finally to the Main Square with high-rise buildings—the couple got off at the residential block.

“Say no to the Severynths! Take down the wall!!” The protestors on the side yelled in hoarse voices while raising their banners.

They’re still at it….

‘Accept Humanity, Reject Monstrosity, Open the Cage’, their banners read. Some distributed flyers, some yelled at the peak of their voices, some sat in the corner and stuffed their faces with cold breakfasts.

“Armageddon follows Severynths! We’re all trapped in a birdcage!!” Another group yelled on the other side of the road.

Ewan clicked his tongue and closed his window again. They were everywhere now, germinating like cockroaches, infesting the colony. The breathtaking and neck craning sight of towers on both sides dampened because of them; the glassed walls mirrored Ewan’s soured face. Soon the tram came to a roundabout with three directions this time. If the bogie was full, Ewan could’ve watched the amusing fight over the direction—it was an irksome flaw in the colony’s tram system yet amusing for those who had time to waste. But he was alone, and this was his destination, so he stepped out.

“Please wait, dude.” A male protestor who was handing out flyers ran to Ewan. He dropped several of them on the way but didn’t stop to pick any up.

“Sorry, I don’t have time.” Ewan politely smiled him off and went his way.

“It won't take long, please. Do you know how cruel the Severynths are? They don’t even bat an eye when slaughtering us humans.” He kept up with Ewan with the bundle of flyers crumpled in his hands. “They have no conscience and slay us like cattle. Deaths and disasters follow them. They’re monsters in human skin. Please, do you not want to save your family from these heinous creatures?”

“I really don’t have time, please disturb someone else,” he said with annoyance and walked away.

Most of these people were the ones who couldn’t become an Asheva; their souls didn’t awaken, or they didn’t have any other path. Ewan pitied these bitter guys, but he pitied those more who awakened their souls yet chose not to open their soul space. If they knew they could live longer if they reached higher steps, they might die from regrets. Ewan chuckled. Or they might be the type who thought long life was a punishment…

The barber shop was up ahead, empty with a worker cleaning the floors and the tools.

“Just shorten it,” Ewan said, sitting on a chair. While the barber got ready, he admired how ‘suave’ he looked in the mirror. Long hair short hair, it didn’t matter, he looked good in either. He would look good even with no hair, he reckoned, but there was no need to test that.

The comfy chair adjusted its bend according to his sitting posture and made him even more comfortable as the barber worked on his hair. Ewan dozed off during the massage that came after and only woke up when the barber removed the cloth and tapped on his shoulders.

The mirror reflected his new look. Wet short black hair, stylized to his usual form.

Ewan paid the barber after checking all sides, the back side too with an additional mirror, and rode the tram again. He only had twenty-seven Sols left now but since he would receive his inheritance soon, he was willing to spend today.

People crammed the tram this time. He found an empty seat in the back but still had to squeeze in. His destination was Leisure Valley, the entertainment venues area he passed on his way here—it was time to enjoy the Frosthelm festival.

He’d also received several spam messages recently stating there was some sort of tournament there for Severynths. The details mentioned that it was a casual event held during the festival for fun. No veterans would attend it, and Ewan too didn’t see any value in it, but he didn’t mind looking at it while he was there. He had free time on his hand anyway.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------
Status: Healthy

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.0

Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 4.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 72
Sol: 27

 

Spoiler: Chapter-35 Frosthelm Festival

Chapter-35 Frosthelm Festival

Leisure Valley.

Tall buildings with animated ads and Frosthelm decorations blotched the area. People in downy clothes congested the streets, their chatters became garbled noise, their dropped popsicles and ice creams littered the road.
Music boomed and the leaves rustled with it, some people in costumes danced on the open and crude stage built to the right. Soon more joined from the audience, and the stage creaked under their mistimed steps.
Towards the left—the park area—had the core of the festival, the once-a-year Frosthelm fair. Stalls lined up the sides, and sellers sold their specialties, from food to photo sessions with half-naked girls who struggled to hide their cold shivers, their teeth clattering under their strained smile.

Fake snow blanketed the grass lawn, kids frolicked around. Intimate couples flirted while families enjoyed their food and drinks together. To the front was an arena of sorts, a coliseum. Its walls and structure looked aged and ancient with fractures racing across, but the sharp smell of fresh paint gave it away.

Ewan stood by the side of the tram after stepping out, already regretting his decision to come here. This kind of atmosphere, oozing with people, was exactly what he didn’t like. There wasn’t even any space to move, yet people walked at their usual pace. It amazed him how they didn’t collide.

He took a deep breath as the tram went on its way after a bell.

“I’m here already. Let’s check it out, what can go wrong…,” he muttered.

The coliseum was the tournament venue, the spam message had its picture. Ewan avoided the crowd by moving around them and reached the arena. An open bluestone plaza in front had people roaming about, some bought tickets from the booth set up on the side.

“For one,” Ewan said to the booth man.

“Watching or taking part?” The seller asked.

“Watching.”

“It’ll be two Sols.”

Ewan proceeded inside after the printer wrestled to vomit his ticket out, shaking with every retch. The staff at the entrance marked his ticket and guided him to his seat, 63B, a not-so-comfortable plastic seat in the second row. They didn’t even have any armrest, Ewan grumbled.

“Would you like something to drink?” the staff asked.

“No, thank you.”

On the stage down below, two men, both dressed in garish costumes of their contracted Astylinds, battled. Though ‘battled’ was an overstatement. Their Astylinds, a red-furred fox and a brown-furred feline with horns, growled at each other from a distance. They circled the stage, glaring and howling, while their masters yelled out instructions from the edge.

The scene left Ewan gaping. He didn’t expect much from this tournament, but this was something...

“Excuse me,” he asked the staff who almost walked away.

“Yes?”

“The drinks, are they free?”

“Yes sir. May I ask what you would like to have?”

“Lime soda if you have it, triple the sugar.”

“I’ll bring it right away.”

The fight wasn’t worthy of the Sols he spent, so at least he could get some drinks and relax before going to that festival market. Those half naked sisters waited for him.

…..

Ewan’s section was half empty when he came in, or half-filled—he was in a good mood today—but more audience trickled in as the ‘fights’ went on. His lime soda hadn't even arrived yet and the seats around him bent from the weight. They hollered, they cheered, some made bets while some stood on their seats and applauded their favorites.

The matches were insipid, how could these excite anyone… Perhaps they hadn’t seen any Severynths before. Lime soda or no lime soda, he wasn’t staying among the rowdy crowd another second.

“Excuse me.” He made his way out, threading through the narrow space left between the seats. People complained and grumbled, and he apologized when he stepped on their feet.

“Sir, your lime soda!” The staff he’d given his order to yelled from the aisle. Ewan gestured him to meet at the entrance and continued his way out and climbed the stairs.

A man of about his height stood on the topmost step near the exit, mumbling away, his hood shading his face. He fiddled with a wooden cylinder in his hand, about his forearm’s length, its head thicker than the shaft. He flicked the button on the shaft while stretching his inner t-shirt’s collar as if it strangled him. He gasped for breaths, his nails scratching his neck, drawing blood.

Except for a fleeting frown though, Ewan didn’t mind him.

“AHH!!! I don’t want to do it!!” Ewan flinched at the sudden scream and stepped back on the stairs, away from the man. Some of the audience in the vicinity turned towards him, but no one else paid him any attention. And the overzealous roars of the audience drowned him soon.

“I don’t want to…I don’t…I’m sorry, Teal…forgive your useless brother.” The man broke down, sobbing and mumbling, his back slouched.

Ewan inched away, each step careful and slow, not attracting any attention. The back of his neck tingled; it was his connection with Toast—their merged souls. His enhanced bestial instincts screamed at him to get away from this man, he was dangerous. But any sudden action could trigger him, so he eased his strides.

The sobbing man bawled away, his shoulders shaking, and tears and snot trickled down his face. He pressed the button on the cylinder he was holding and dropped it, collapsing on his knees. The cylinder clanked on the floor and rolled towards Ewan, growling on the concrete as it did and thudding on each step.

Shit!!

Ewan’s senses sent a tremor down his spine, but before he could bolt away, the cylinder exploded.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------


Status: Healthy


Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.0

Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 4.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 72
Sol: 25

 

Spoiler: Chapter-36 Blood Rein

Chapter-36 Blood Rein

The loud and the fuzzy rang his ears—an annoying and blaring mosquito noise that just wouldn’t go away. He blinked and squinted several times, shook his head, and the rotating world finally became halted. Dust and splinters covered the sky, it prickled his eyes and irritated his throat. It pained when he coughed so he held it in and gulped.

He lay on a bed of rubble, of wood and concrete. His chest, his stomach, and his forearms were a bloody mess. His palm came out red when he grazed the back of his head. And his face too had bleeding lacerations. He groaned and struggled to get up, but his limbs refused to listen, and he collapsed again, adding to the wounds.
The waves of stinging pain kept him down this time. The ringing subsided after a while, and the screams of the panicking audience trickled in. Luckily, no one trampled him while he slept here.

Iris.

She slid out of the vortex he opened and dove into his dusty hair. Ewan first had her target his head injury that dizzied him, which she healed after using her skill a couple of times. His skull hadn't broken, it was only a gash on the skin and a blunt trauma without any hostility, so it didn’t take much to heal it. But it sapped Iris of her Anima.

He took out a small red Anima Crystal of the blood element and had Iris recover her Anima with it. This was faster than natural recovery.
Iris binge healed his chest and stomach wounds, the Anima Crystal sponsoring her splurge, while Ewan wrestled to his feet again. The more he moved, the more he bled. But he couldn’t stay here anymore, vulnerable and unguarded. He propped his battered and pelted body on the large rubble and rotated his sore neck, grunting with hitched heaves. All the audience was gone, the explosion had razed the area down to the ground. No stairs, no seats, it only left splintered pieces of them, and there in the distance lay a shattered glass of lime soda. His increased vitality was the only reason he survived the blast despite being so close to it…

Maybe we really are monsters…

Ewan aimed for the exit, or whatever remained of the crumbling arc. There was one explosion, there could be another, he couldn’t stay here. He slogged on the uneven ground, scraping his frayed shoes, and made his way out, his steps frail and shaky.

A group in hooded jackets and grinning masks fired their rifles at the stampeding crowd, the muzzles flashing and dancing amidst the mayhem. People wailed, screeched, and crushed those who fell; they killed more than the aimless bullets. The entertainment venues, the tall buildings, became their safe zones though, as they rammed in through the bolted doors. Some failed at the last step and their blood and gore painted the entrance…

“Ladies and gentlemen, please do not panic.” A man with the same grinning mask stood on an overturned stall and spoke in a loudspeaker. His voice bounced off the glass buildings and barreled far. “We are not your enemy; we are your savior. If you are a human, you have nothing to worry about. We are here to exterminate the fast-growing parasites, the monsters among us. We will not hurt you.”

Ewan backed away and hid behind the intact wall of the coliseum. The situation was worse than he imagined, especially for him because he was one of the ‘monsters’ the bastard talked about. The rifles tingled his sense of danger, the bullets they belched could hurt him. These group of nutjobs could kill him if he wasn’t careful.

“Anyone who joins our noble cause will be rewarded. Any human who kills a parasite or captures one will be rewarded.” The man hollered away on the loudspeaker.

Ewan ignored the chaos outside and trudged towards the other side of the coliseum, leaving a trail of blood behind—this exit was a no go, he could only try the other one. Iris had already healed some of his wounds, but he was still dripping blood from the major ones. The explosion had ripped his skin and muscles apart, it wasn’t as easy to heal as a straight cut.

Mutilated limbs, ripped organs, bloody guts, and crushed heads lined his path. Each step fell on pools of blood and gore, but he overlooked them and raised his head, inhaling lungfuls. He had to, if not, he would break down here. The thick smell of iron mixed with ammonia didn’t excite his bestial instincts this time, instead it rang the alarm in his mind.

He brought out both Frost and Orange. The two screeched and snarled when they saw his state, but he calmed them down with a word and got them into position. Orange led the way while Frost, now taller than Ewan’s knees, defended his back, his tail swaying left and right as he walked with caution. They crossed the arena in the center instead of going around, jumped over the small fences, and reached the exit. This area looked almost the same as the other exit, broken and crumbling, there had been another explosion here.

The sound of firing became louder as Ewan inched closer to the cracked door. They even came to this side, he sighed and stopped. Even though Frost could defend him with ice shields, it would still be a risk if he went out as he was. And he couldn’t stay in this coliseum either, it wasn’t a good place to hide. Once they surrounded him in this open and flat area and blocked the exits, he would have to forfeit his life.

If he could cast the spell he was practicing since last week, it might increase his chances at survival. He hid by the side of a pillar and flipped through his Spellbook, crunching the leaves.

This was the second spell he chose to focus on; it was of the blood element and had a good span of potential—a low minimum point, and a high maximum point, like <Ice Daggers>. But his success rate with it had been abysmal so far. The only saving grace was that the spell was continuous. Once the spell circuit glimmered in his soul space, it could stay active for a period, which depended on the caster.

He failed on his first attempt, and he groaned. The second, third, and the fourth trial failed too. The pain distracted him, he couldn’t concentrate on the spell circuit; the technical curves eluded him. He took deep breaths and sat with his back to the wall. Orange and Frost guarded him, Iris healed him, while he traced the circuit.

After several tries, the success finally came, the circuit glinted with Blood-Anima, and with it came the short-lived exhilaration.

Blood Rein!

Blood floated out of his wounds to his extended palm and gathered into a blob. Ewan’s bloodless face paled even more, his hands trembled, his vision blurred then cleared. His old acquaintance, hypovolemia, was back again. But he couldn’t do anything about it this time. The spell needed either his or his Astylind’s blood. It was an easy choice for the already bleeding him.

The crimson wriggling blob of blood was now an adult’s head size. Even with his increased vitality, it was a lot of blood. A necessary sacrifice for survival though, he had no qualms about it.

And the blob floated in front of Ewan, connected to his soul.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------
Status: Injured | Hypovolemia

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.0

Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 0.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 72
Sol: 25

 

Spoiler: Chapter-37 Rest

Chapter-37 Rest

The dizziness held him down, but Ewan rattled his head and resisted, and the walls supported him as he went out of the coliseum. His intention wasn’t to fight, it was to survive. Thus, he broke into a run as soon as he exited, racing away from the crazies. The jerks from the dash sent waves of pain down his body, but he bore it, he had no other choice.

Iris grabbed his hair and withstood the hissing wind while Orange and Frost matched his sprint.

A couple from the masked group turned to fire towards him; the muzzle belched. Ewan molded his blob of blood into a concaved shield and blocked it all, covering Orange and Frost too as they bolted. The bullets rained on the blood shield, the endless patters drowned his heaves, but the salvo couldn’t penetrate, they couldn’t even dent it. Yet, the fireworks of bullets sang an ominous melody, it would be life-threatening if it continued.

“Found one here!” One of the masked men yelled.

Ewan ignored the increasing aggro and barreled down the street to the nearest building, the game arcade. The number of people outside had decreased, breathing people, so Ewan became an easy target among the fallen.

The blood shield protected Ewan and his Astylinds and let him to reach the arcade building unscathed. Orange sprung ahead and pulverized the blockaded gate with his explosive punches while Frost erected a large but immobile ice wall behind them. It would take some time for those outside to break this wall down and get in.

A large hall with ticket counters followed the entrance gate. White-tiled walls with dried streaks of mop, a red carpet with muddy footprints, and a large modernistic chandelier dangling from the ceiling. People huddled together in the corner, screaming, their faces bloodless. Some broke down in tears and snot, some screeched and crawled away when the gate broke.

The moment Ewan entered; a heavy stench of urine bombarded his nose. Someone peed in here, and it was more than one bladder. Ewan held his breath and vaulted over the security gate. This was the ground floor of the gaming arcade, a floor for physical games.

Lift’s door was ajar with fingerprint smudges on its edges struggling for purchase, and the lights were off. Its control panel was dark too. So, he climbed the stairs, skipping steps, floor after floor, and soon reached the top floor—the tenth floor—with his heartbeat calmer than he was. This floor had restaurants and fast-food joints lining the sides, this was the food court. Overturned chairs, flipped tables, broken menu boards, food spilled everywhere on the ground, and grease fire blazed unattended. The masks hadn’t reached here, yet the chaos had descended… After he punched the emergency button for the fire extinguishers, as the white sprayed down on the dancing flames, he wandered away. The sound of his clacking boots echoed on the empty floor, and his quiet breaths hummed with it.

Soon the smell of freshly baked bread grabbed him, a welcome change from the stench of gore. There was a bakery up ahead, its inside intact save for the shattered glass door, its frame dangling by the hinge. This was a good place to rest and heal. The glass shards crunched and screeched when he walked in.

The people hiding on the lower floors might satiate the masked group’s bloodthirst. And if they came here even after that, Ewan would have a choice of either fighting back or fleeing through the roof. His enhanced physique would help him in this.

“Keep watch,” he said to Orange and Frost, and chugged down the chilled water he took out from the fridge, the glass bottles clattering when he shut it. He also poured some on his face and head, drenching Iris too who shivered from the deluge of icy water.

…..

The intermittent explosions rattled the cutlery and shook the furniture. Ewan shielded the savory buttered garlic bread from the concrete powder and dust falling down the ceiling and tore a mouthful. He’d stored all the fresh bread from the curved glass display counter in his claw-ring and was now balancing the comfy chair on its rear, his legs stretched up on the table.

Iris had already healed all his major wounds and was now wheezing inside the blood rune, leaving the minor wounds to heal on their own. Frost kept a diligent watch near the door, his tail held still, while Orange swung on the chandelier. Toast too was out of the wheel tattoo, wincing from their shared pain at times, and nibbled his own bread on Ewan’s stomach, leaving crumbs on his tattered sweatshirt and inner t-shirt.

Another explosion went off and cracks raced on the glass counter, the decorative painting fell from the wall, baring several holes that were trials for the final nail that held it. Ewan shook his head and clicked his tongue, how did these people get so many first-degree contrabands anyway, it was beyond him. The only theory that could explain the current situation was that someone supported these masked people, someone powerful enough to get them these weapons. This also explained why there had been no response from the law enforcers so far, the crazy black suits were unusually quiet, given the situation. The masked people were having a picnic today, free and unfettered, at the expense of other people’s lives.

Ewan chuckled; it wasn’t like he had the right to judge them. The blood and gore might’ve fazed him, but the deaths didn’t. Now that he was calm, he found himself unfeeling of the massacre. His survival was his only concern.

He savored another bite and connected to the hub using the connector. Obria was a mess and he needed to know why. The price for Obria’s information was one Novas, much cheaper than any other information listed. And once he read the paid content, the reason justified it.

‘Political unrest. The Crown might be dead. New update coming soon.’

His connection cut and he lurched forward on the chair, the front legs thudding down, startling Toast—the tiny bit of news shocked him.

Vidovik was dead, since when? And who controlled the colony then… He wanted some answers from the hub, yet it saw him off with more questions instead. It could be the defense force that ruled the colony now, as the second most powerful force after the Crown. There might’ve been a coup in Obria that the public didn’t know about, or they faced an external threat that had destroyed the colony’s structure...

There were some signs of instability in the colony in the recent years, give or take five years. Risen prices, increased violence, decreased security, higher death rate. But he always took it as bad management, everyone did. Who knew, things were this bad. Now the attack from the masked group didn’t look so mysterious. It must be a political move; someone wanted the colony to fall into chaos.

He leaned back and pondered. If the situation could reach this level, an open massacre with no response from the law enforcers, was staying in the colony worth it? But he only had his one home. Where would he go if not here? His Pa must’ve left him that huge basement to turn it into an earning source. Ewan planned to modify a part of it into a garden once he came back from his hunt. He could grow herbs and plants needed for potions and sell them for a profit. Yet, the current situation shook his plans.

Ewan sighed. He needed to think more about this decision. For now, getting out of this mess came first.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------


Status: Injured | Hypovolemia


Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.0

Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 4.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 71
Sol: 25